Law & Order: Batman and Batgirl Begin
by The Congressman
Summary: After the loss of his parents, Bruce Wayne vows to help save Gotham City from the criminals that rule it. Along the way, he teams up with a childhood friend who wants the same thing.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: I've been writing for about a year now, and discovered this site a month ago. Reading everything gave me the urge to write a fanfic to stimulate my creativity, plus it sounds fun.**

**I am a huge fan of both SVU and The Dark Knight Trilogy, and late at night while reading fanfiction, I came up with a perfect way to integrate the two into a crossover. I'll follow the plot of the Trilogy, but with some interesting changes. This is the first part of the trilogy, and I do plan to see it to the finish.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own either SVU or The Dark Knight Trilogy. They belong to Dick Wolf and Christopher Nolan respectively. Now what I would do if I did own them… ; )**

**I know the chapters are long but that's my style. If you wish, in the next chapter I will publish which characters are substituted for who if anyone is confused, but for now enjoy my first Fanfic! Please Review!**

**Law & Order: Batman and Batgirl Begin**

Chapter one: origins

Dr. Thomas Wayne, MD, FACS was sitting at his desk, leaning back glossing over medical charts. While he had taken the weekend off to spend time with his beloved wife Martha, there was no rest for the star surgeon and the latest patriarch of the Wayne Family, one of Gotham's most prominent families.

Finishing with the medical files, he picked up another from a different pile on his desk, one that was stenciled with the signature logo of Wayne Enterprises. Although he loved his job at the hospital, Thomas Wayne felt an obligation to his family's company, and thusly served as its chairman. The file contained a memo regarding the possible poaching of a bright engineer from Lockheed, a one Lucius Fox. Glancing over the man's qualifications, Wayne liked what he saw and made a note to hire this man.

A slight knock on the door jarred him out of his work. "Come in." In strode Martha, his wife. His lips curled back in a soft smile. _After years of saving lives, now Martha and I have created one. _Martha was six months along and simply radiant. All over Wayne Manor, all the staff was exited for their employers, especially Alfred, the butler.

"Hi dear," said Martha. "Can we talk to you?"

"We?" asked Thomas. Martha turned to the door and motioned for someone to come in.

In strode Karen Cabot, his housekeeper, who was five months pregnant with a girl, a potential playmate for his son. "Karen has a favor to ask of you."

"Karen, of course you can ask me."

Karen smiled weakly. "Master Wayne, you know my half-sister Serena?"

Wayne raised an eyebrow, not knowing where she was going with this. "Serena, yes I saw her at the last Christmas party. I thought she was your full sister."

She shook her head. "No, after my father died, my mother married Lucas Benson, Serena's father. She's four years younger than me."

"Ok, so what about her?" he said in a friendly manner.

"To his horror, Karen's eyes teared up. "Seven months ago, she was brutally raped in her campus, and now she's pregnant with his baby."

Thomas' mouth dropped. "Oh my God! How horrible!"

Karen fought back a sob, "She's despondent; cries herself to sleep every night. I don't know what to do."

Martha put a hand on Karen's shoulder. "Tom, I told her that Serena could move into a spare bedroom in Wayne Manor. She needs her family close by. Is that alright with you?" She looked at him as if saying "It better be alright with you!"

Thomas rose and gave his employee a hug, letting her cry into his shirt. "Of course dear. She can come and stay as long as she likes." As Karen was mumbling thank yous into his shirt, Thomas looked at his wife's belly. _I guess my son will have two playmates._

**Eight years later**

"Liv. Come out come out wherever you are." Olivia crouched behind a rosebush, trying to blend in to the foliage. Looking on the terrace, she saw her target, who was too busy looking in the other direction.

She gave a predatory grin and charged. "Gotcha!" Her target turned quickly just as she tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms on the tiles. "I win again Bruce," she smirked.

Bruce Wayne, her best friend, squirmed under her. "One day Liv, I swear I'll beat you!"

Chuckling, Olivia rose and helped Bruce up. "I'd like to see you try." He stuck his tongue out at her.

"Hey guys, come here!" Both of them turned and ran to the greenhouse. There, hiding underneath a table, was Alex Cabot, Olivia's other best friend. "Look what I found." She opened the palm of her hand to reveal an Indian arrowhead. "Finder's Keeper's."

"Yeh, but it's my garden so…" Bruce looked at Alex's hand for a moment before… "Finder's Keeper's." Laughing, he snatched the arrowhead and ran off.

"Bruce, give it back!" Olivia yelled, running after him. He had a head start, so when she, Alex in tow, exited the greenhouse, he was nowhere to be found. Seeing a slight movement from an old well, she smiled mischievously. "Ah ha!"

To her horror, the old boards gave way and Bruce fell down the well. "Bruce!" screamed Olivia and Alex in unison. Both peered down the well, and when seeing he was still alive Olivia told Alex to get help. "Don't worry Bruce, we'll get Uncle Alfred. Stay calm." She turned and ran toward Wayne Manor.

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Bruce started shaking, the performance reminding him of the terrifying hour spent in the well before his father and Olivia returned to save him. His father, sensing his son's fear, escorted him and his mother out of the Opera house, heading for a side exit. "Is something the matter Tom," asked his mother, worried about her son.

"No dear, it was me. I just needed some fresh air. A little bit of opera goes a long way," he replied, winking at his son. Bruce couldn't help but smile; between his mother's love and father's kindness, he knew that as long as they were with him, he was going to be alright.

Just as they were about to enter the main street, a disheveled man with long, scraggly hair pointed a revolver at them. "Wallets, jewelry. Now!" he demanded.

Bruce was scared, clinging to his mother. His father though was surprisingly calm. "Alright," he said, handing the wallet over to the guy. "No problem." The man, who had the reek of booze all over his body, fumbled, dropping the wallet. Picking it up, he pointed the gun at his mother. "Jewelry too!" As his father stepped forward to protect his mother, the guy fired point blank, running away. Bruce, scared to his very core, surveyed the scene. His mother was lifeless on the clammy pavement, blood seeping underneath her.

"Bruce." He turned to see his father smiling weakly at him. "Don't be afraid," he croaked before his eyes closed in the everlasting sleep of death.

Three hours later, the still shocked Bruce Wayne sat in a chair in the local police precinct. All around him, the press were having a field day, for a billionaire socialite gunned down with his wife was front page news. "Hey there little guy." Bruce looked up to see a young police officer on his kneeling in front of him. The man oozed toughness, but possessed a comforting smile. "This your father's?" He wrapped the coat around his still shaking shoulders, comforting him as best he could. "It's ok; everything's going to be ok."

"Stabler!" Bruce saw another cop in full uniform enter. The young officer patted Bruce once more on the cheek and walked out. The new guy, owning bony face with dark, thick glasses, smiled down at Bruce. "Hey. My name's Captain John Munch. I just want to let you know, we got the guy. His name's Eddie Skinner, a real lowlife." Bruce didn't know what to feel, because even if the man was caught, his parents were still dead.

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The funeral for Thomas and Martha Wayne had just ended, and Alfred led Bruce into Wayne Manor, a protective hand around his shoulder. "I thought I might prepare a little supper."

"Alfred," said Bruce, tears in his eyes. "It's my fault their dead. If I hadn't gotten scared…"

"No Master Bruce," said Alfred, hugging the boy. "This was not your fault. It was nothing that you did; it was him and him alone."

"I miss them so much," Alfred could feel his ward's sobs through his suit.

"I miss them too Master Bruce." He looked down at him. "Hey, I've got something that'll help." He led the boy out of the room and into the main foyer.

"Bruce!" Running forward, two young girls, one blonde and the other brunette, hugged him at the same time. "I'm so sorry," said Alex Cabot, pulling him close. Alfred smiled, for he knew that the two had a crush on each other.

"This isn't your fault," cried Olivia Benson, her arms around his neck. "You shouldn't feel guilty." Looking down at the brown haired mite, Alfred couldn't help but shed a tear, for he considered Olivia to be the daughter he never had.

"Alex, come now, we have to go," called Karen Cabot, the now ex-housekeeper. With their services no longer needed, they were leaving to find new opportunities elsewhere.

"Bye Bruce. I'll be sure to keep in touch." Alex kissed her friend on the cheek and walked toward her mother.

"Olivia!" A blood curdling scream echoed through the Manor. In strode Serena Benson, a half empty bottle of scotch in her left hand. "Hurry up!" Alfred stared at her, anger in his eyes. She was like this all the time, drunk and abusive towards her daughter. For the last eight years, Alfred and Master Thomas had spared little Olivia from the worst of it, but now there was nothing they could do.

Crying herself, Olivia gave Bruce one last hug. "Remember Bruce, friends forever." She let him go and turned to hug Alfred. "Goodbye Uncle Alfred; I'll miss you." With that, she turned and walked slowly toward her mother.

Fighting back the tears welling in his eyes, now that they were all alone, Alfred turned to his ward. "Well, I recommend we prepare that supper."

**Ten Years Later**

Sitting on a bench on upper 5th, Olivia couldn't stop the flood of tears. It had been just a year since her mother kicked her out because she was seeing one of her students, and just yesterday, she found out her boyfriend was cheating on her. Not knowing what to do, she left, sleeping at a local Church shelter.

_I'm now completely alone._ Ever since she left Wayne Manor, she rarely saw her cousin Alex, and could count the times she saw Bruce, her best friend, with her fingers. With her mother slipping into drunken stupors more and more often, Olivia had no idea how her life could get any worse. _And yet I did. What am I going to do?_

Just then, she felt a piece of paper caught on her leg. Bending down to pick it up, Olivia saw it was a recruiting flyer for the Gotham Police Department. She looked at it in disgust; the GPD was notorious for its corruption and ineffectiveness. They were almost universally owned by the various mob families, notably the one ran by Carmine Falcone, the man she was sure arranged for the rape of her mother. "What God? This is what you send me!" She was about to toss the flyer in the trash can when she stopped herself. _What else can you do?_ She was good at self-defense (any woman living in the Narrows had to be), and had no better non-criminal prospects. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Olivia sighed. "Well God, I guess you're looking at the newest member of the GPD.

**A/N: Well there you have it. I know it follows the story line but it'll get more interesting later. Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: sorry about the last chapter. I'll make sure to divide the sections better. **

**The timeline is the same as in the films, with Olivia, Bruce, and Cabot all being the same age. Also, I've made Stabler twelve years older than Olivia for future reference. **

**Since I like doing things in chronological order, there won't be flashbacks like in Batman Begins. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own SVU or the Dark Knight Trilogy. They belong to Dick Wolf and Christopher Nolan respectively.**

**Enjoy and please review!**

Chapter 2: Decisions

**Four years later**

"Welcome back Master Bruce," said Alfred as he hefted the duffel bag. "Will you be returning to Princeton after the hearing?"

"Nah," replied Bruce nonchalantly. "I like it fine, but they don't feel the same way."

Alfred smirked. "I've prepared the master bedroom for you."

They began to ascend up the main staircase, tarps covering the once lavishly displayed artworks. "My room will be just fine Alfred."

"With all due respect sir, this is your house."

"No Alfred," spat Bruce viciously, the pain from that night fourteen years ago all flooding back. "This is my father's house. Look around you! Wayne Manor is a mausoleum; if I had my way I'd pull the damn thing down brick by brick! Why do you give a damn about any of this Alfred?"

The butler sighed and looked at the young man who was his charge. "I give a damn, because a good man once made me responsible for what was most precious to him in the whole world."

The two continued up the staircase in silence. "Be sure to call a car for me Alfred," said Bruce as they made their way into the well-lit but still cavernous hallway.

"That's not necessary sir. Miss Cabot has offered to drive you to the hearing."

Bruce's stomach welled up into a knot at the mention of his childhood friend. He didn't want her to see him do what he had planned. "She didn't have to do that Alfred. I can go there by myself."

"Master Wayne," replied Alfred in the same stern voice as he had used on the stairs, "Remember, there are those of us who care about what you do with your future."

Opening the door to his bedroom, Bruce shook his head. "I have no future Alfred."

"I don't believe that for a second. Never give up hope Master Bruce. The past may be painful, but it is the past. Always look forward to what is ahead."

Bruce gave his servant and surrogate father a weak smile. "Haven't given up on me yet Alfred?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. I'll leave you some time to freshen up sir." He closed the doors.

Standing there, Bruce looked around the room, which despite being his was filled with much of his father's personal effects. He walked over to the bedside table and picked up his father's stethoscope, fondly remembering the time when his father taught him how to listen for heartbeats. A tear welled up in his eye but he quickly wiped it away and walked to his duffel bag, which was sitting on the bed. Unzipping it, Bruce rifled through his clothes until he found what he was looking for, a .38 caliber revolver.

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Entering the kitchen not one hour later, Bruce spotted a tall blonde sitting at the counter. "Alfred still keeps the condensed milk on the top shelf," he said with a smirk.

Alex Cabot smiled as she looked at him. "Doesn't he know that you are old enough to reach it now?"

"Old habits die hard I guess," he said, giving her a quick hug.

"Never stopped us before," she replied, always happy to see her friend.

"How's your mom?" asked Bruce, leaning on the countertop.

"She misses this place. So do I as a matter of fact."

"Yeh, but it's nothing without the people who made it what it was. Now it's just Alfred…"

"And you," interrupted Alex, who hated when Bruce acted like this. The vibrant, happy boy from her childhood had been replaced by a sullen, depressed man, and she was saddened to see it.

"I'm not staying Alex, so let's just get in your car and go."

She grinned, which struck Bruce as odd. "I don't have my car."

He gave her a confused look. "So how are we going to get there?"

"She has a police escort," said an authoritative voice behind him. Bruce turned to see an auburn-haired cop smiling at him. "Good to see you again Bruce," she said, walking over to give him a hug.

"Surprise!" shouted Alex, enjoying the look of shock on Bruce's face. "We don't spend as much time together as we should, so I thought Officer Benson should join us."

"I must say Liv," commented Bruce once he regained his wits, "I'm still not used to seeing you as a cop, but it definitely suits you. Makes Olivia Benson look even more badass than usual."

Alex laughed, "Badass Benson. Has a nice ring to it!"

Olivia looked cross, glaring at Alex before turning back to Bruce. "Yep, and this badass can still kick yours 24/7," she retorted, a finger in his chest. At Bruce's smirk, she lost her indignation and looked at him with concern, for since they were toddlers she could tell what Bruce was thinking by looking into his eyes. "Is there any way we can convince you not to come to the hearing?"

His smirk disappeared, replaced with a scowl. "Someone at this proceeding," he drew out the last word, pronouncing every syllable, "Should stand for my parents Olivia."

"We all loved your parents Bruce," replied Alex. "What Skinner did was unforgivable…"

"Then why is your boss, the DA, letting him go?" he yelled, venom in his voice.

"In prison," replied Alex slowly, hating how Bruce yelled at her but understanding the pain behind it, "Skinner shared a cell with Carmine Falcone, and learned a lot about his operations and proclivities. He agreed to tell the DA what he knows in exchange for early parole."

Olivia put a hand on his shoulder, "Bruce, this is our chance to finally get Falcone for all that he's done. If it means getting Skinner out then…"

"Skinner killed my parents Liv. I cannot let that pass. I need you to understand."

Olivia looked straight into Bruce's eyes, torn between her oath and her best friend. "Ok," she said softly, choosing the latter.

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"Despite the horrible nature of his crime, Mr. Skinner acted not out of greed, but out of desperation. Due to his willingness to assist the DA's office in one of our major ongoing cases, we strongly endorse his petition for early release."

Olivia felt Bruce's hand clench, squeezing hers tightly. Sitting next to him for moral support, she was sure he was about to lose control. "Calm down Bruce, you're scaring me," she whispered in his ear. Surprising her, he relaxed immediately, letting out a deep breath.

"Thank you Mr. McCoy," remarked Judge Oliver Taft, who was presiding over today's event. Resting his gaze on the defendant, he thundered, "Mr. Skinner, do you have anything to say?"

Eddie Skinner, clean shaven and thinner than his mug shot, rose to address the court. "Your honor, not a day goes by that I don't regret what I did. I wish I could go back and change it but, I know I can't change what I did." Alex, sitting behind DA McCoy, turned to look at Bruce and Olivia, concerned with their reactions.

"I understand," said Judge Taft," That there is a member of the Wayne family here today. Would he like to say something?" All eyes, Olivia's and Alex's included, focused on Bruce, who stood up, his face expressionless. However, instead of giving a hate-filled diatribe as Olivia expected he'd do, Bruce simply turned and walked out of the courtroom. 'Something's wrong with him,' Olivia thought.

Outside, Bruce loaded six shells into the revolver. "Bruce?" He quickly hid the gun in his sleeve and turned to see Olivia. "Are you alright Bruce?" she asked, her eyes betraying her fear for him (he had always been able to know exactly what she was feeling based on her eyes, a trait they both shared).

"I will be Liv," he whispered before the hallway erupted in shouts. The press mobbed a collection of lawyers and cops, all escorting the now paroled Skinner out of the courtroom. Bruce walked slowly toward the crowd, his index finger stroking the trigger.

"Come on Bruce," said Olivia, grabbing his shoulder. "Let's get you away from this." Shaking her off, he walked faster, the gun starting to emerge from its hiding place.

Screams punctuated the hallway as three quick shots rang out, Skinner collapsing to the ground. Bruce, taken aback, witnessed several cops take down the woman who pulled the trigger, obviously working for Falcone, before Olivia dragged him outside, her gun drawn. Franticly, she gave him the one over. "Are you hurt Bruce?"

Still caught up in the past minutes events, Bruce could only shake his head. Alex burst out of the courthouse, her worry for him all over her face. Looking through the door, he could see one of the cops pull Skinner's blazer over his head, a signal that he was dead. "Let me take you home Bruce, you don't need to see this."

He shook his head once more. "I do."

"She's right Bruce, go home," added Olivia, holstering her weapon. As Alex led her best friend away toward her car, a single tear fell from Olivia's cheek to the stone floor below her, for she had seen the gun in her friend's hand.

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Bruce sat in the passenger seat of Alex's Ford Taurus, not happy but still content. Skinner was dead; he didn't get to pull the trigger but Skinner was still dead. Justice had been served for his parents.

His thoughts prevented him from hearing the first half of the conversation. "…couldn't understand why Taft kept the courthouse public. Falcone must have paid Taft off to get Skinner out in the open."

"Maybe I should be thanking him," replied Bruce, though wishing he could have been the one to avenge his parents.

"You don't mean that."

"Yes I do Alex. My parents deserved justice."

She shook her head forcefully. "That's not justice Bruce, that's revenge. Justice is about harmony while revenge is about making yourself feel better. That's why we have an impartial system."

Bruce scoffed, "Your system is broken Alex." His reply was cut short as Alex threw the Taurus into a sharp turn from 5th to Lower 5th street.

The change in scenery couldn't have been more striking. While above the city looked clean and vibrant, here it gave off the impression of a Dickensian dystopia, with trash strewn everywhere, gutted cars lining the side of the road, and the collected wastrels and dregs of Gotham's nearly twelve million people struggling to eke out an existence. "You care about justice, look beyond your own pain Bruce. Gotham is rotting. Falcone and the others like him fill the city with crime and drugs, preying on the desperate and creating new Eddie Skinners every day. Anyone who objects, he has them raped and murdered; just ask Olivia. Falcone may have not killed your parents, but he and his kind are against everything they stood for." Alex braked in front of a small café, one notorious as Falcone's base of operations. "You want to thank him go ahead. As long as he keeps the bad people rich and the good people scared, no one will touch him."

Bruce sighed. "I'm not like you or Olivia; I'm not one of your good people Alex."

"What do you mean?" She looked at him like he was telling a joke.

"All these years I wanted to kill him," he took out the gun and set it on his lap, "And now I can't."

She stared at him, mouth open in horror. When he didn't say anything else, she slapped him, hard. "Your father would be ashamed of you Bruce." He shrugged, and got out of the car, walking to the river. Looking back to see her drive away, Bruce threw the gun as far as he could, not leaving till he watched it hit the water.

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"Well, it isn't every day I get to meet the famous Bruce Wayne," Carmine Falcone beamed after his bodyguard patted Bruce down. He turned over to his dinner companion. "Could you give us a moment baby," he whispered, slapping her ass as she got up. The girl, clad in a skimpy dress, couldn't have been more than fourteen, for Falcone was a notorious pedophile (Bruce had heard the rumors from Olivia). "No gun? I'm insulted." He took a bite of his steak. "You know, a thank you note would have been fine."

"I didn't come here to thank you," Bruce replied acidly, "I came to tell you that not everyone in Gotham's afraid of you."

"Only those who know me kid," said Falcone cockily. "Look around you, and tell me what you see. I see two councilmen, a union official, several off duty GPD captains, and a judge." He motioned to a corner table, where none other than Judge Taft sat, loudly playing doctor with two underage girls. Across the booth, Falcone pulled out a pistol. "I wouldn't have a second's hesitation of blowing your head off right in front of them. That's the power of fear kid, and it's something you can't buy."

"I'm not afraid of you."

Falcone grinned, "You think you've got nothing to lose. You haven't thought about your little friend in the DA's office; you haven't thought about your old butler; you haven't thought about that pretty cop of yours. BANG!" He pulled the trigger of the gun, which clicked, revealing it was unloaded the entire time. Bruce flinched, thinking about what he said, thinking about Alex, Alfred, and Olivia, of what he would do if they were gone. Sensing this, Falcone chuckled, putting away the gun. "People like you kid, they have so much to lose. You think that because mommy and daddy got shot you know the ugly side of life, but you don't. Your Bruce fucking Wayne, the prince of Gotham. You'd have to go 1,000 miles before people couldn't recognize you. Don't come in here with your anger, trying to prove something to yourself. You'll never understand this side of life. People fear what they can't understand kid."

Before Bruce could respond, Falcone signaled his men, who jerked Bruce up and punched him in the face, busting his lip. "You know," Falcone taunted, "Skinner told me about that night, how your father begged for mercy. Begged! Like a dog. You have more spirit than him kid, I'll give you that." And with that, the bodyguards hustled Bruce out of the café, throwing him roughly onto the sidewalk.

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"You should have tipped better!" remarked one of Gotham City's many homeless. Bruce didn't hear him, for he was wrapped too deep in his own thoughts, and of what Falcone said. Making what was undoubtedly the biggest decision of his life, Bruce took off his gloves and threw them in the trashcan the bum was using as a campfire. "What are you doing?" asked the man, curious.

"Here you go friend," said Bruce, handing the bum several hundred dollars as he chucked his wallet into the fire.

"Hold on there. Let me have the coat." Bruce noticed the bum eying his $10,000 tweed jacket.

"I'll trade it with you," pointing to the man's ten dollar thrift store jacket.

"Ok," said the bum, not asking questions as to why this rich man was giving him money and a nice coat.

"Be careful, a lot of people will be looking for that."

"What people?"

"Everyone." With that, Bruce turned and ran toward the docks, hopping on the nearest containership.

"It is a nice coat," remarked the bum, draping it over his shoulders.

**A/N: The next update won't come as quick as this one. I just wanted a little more meat on the story. Please review! The Congressman.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey everyone. Due to the importance and sheer length of material, plus detailing how Liv is doing back in Gotham, I have decided to split Bruce's time with the League of Shadows into two parts. Here is part one, set four years after Bruce leaves, pre-season 1 of SVU.**

**Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own SVU or the Dark Knight Trilogy; they belong to Dick Wolf and Christopher Nolan respectively.**

Chapter 3: Training

Firing their AKMS assault rifles in the air, the prison guards ran like hell toward the scuffle. Angry at having to leave the relative comfort of the barracks, they grabbed the instigator of the fight, who was unique in being the only white man present in the all oriental Bhutanese prison. "Solitary!" yelled the Sergeant in charge.

The man, a dirty beard hiding his face, was breathing heavily, "Why?"

"For protection."

"I don't need protection."

"Protection for them," he said, pointing to the six prostrate and groaning prisoners littering the prison yard.

Throwing the prisoner into the cell, the guards closed the door, as sharp click indicating it was locked. "Are you so desperate to fight criminals, that you get arrested so that you can take them all out at once? Why is that Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce turned to see a tall, balding figure with a neatly trimmed mustache-beard and dressed in an Armani suit. "How do you know my name?"

"The world is too small for someone like Bruce Wayne to disappear," said the man, his face giving off a sense of amiable contentment. He looked at the cell walls, clammy and covered by mold, "No matter how far he chooses to sink."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Donald Cragen, but I speak for Ra's al Ghul, a man greatly feared by the criminal underworld. You are lost Bruce, and are in need of a path. Ra's al Gul is willing to offer one to you."

"And what path is this," said Bruce, wheezing from the prolonged cold the prison's lack of central heating caused him.

"A path of a man who shares his hatred of evil, and who wishes to serve true justice; the path of the League of Shadows." Bruce raised an eyebrow.

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Her promotion fresh, Detective Olivia Benson stepped through the now open elevator doors into her new precinct. The place was bustling with activity, with both uniformed and plainclothes officers scurrying about their tasks. Worming her way through the busy mob, Olivia made it into a large open space where several desks were strewn about. "Excuse me," she shouted, trying to make herself heard through all the racket, "Is this the 1-6 Special Victims Unit?"

Several heads turned around, "Why yes it is sweet cheeks," said a curly-haired detective in his mid-thirties. "You must be the answer to my dreams baby."

She took a step back, repulsed. "Come on Cassidy; leave her alone for crying out loud." Olivia looked behind Cassidy and saw a well-muscled detective in his late-thirties, a marine tattoo on his left bicep. "What is it you need ma'am?" he asked, something in his tone telling her that he was honest, not a common trait in the GPD.

"I'm looking for a Captain John Munch. I'm Olivia Benson, his new detective," she said proudly, taking out her badge.

Cassidy gave a loud whistle, "I told you guys my dreams came true!"

"Shut up Cassidy," came a blasé voice from an office. "I'm Captain Munch. Step inside my office Benson." Glad to get away from that boor Cassidy, Olivia complied.

"So the commissioner wants a lady on the team eh?"

"Excuse me?" Olivia replied, momentarily distracted by the large portrait of JFK on the wall.

Munch sat at his desk, a smile spread across his bony face. "The brass, in a moment of desperately lacking good wisdom, decided to send a female detective so that our victims can feel more open to talking. I'll must say, you have quite the qualification to be that detective. Uni to Detective in eight years, that's impressive. Beats my record I'll tell you that."

Olivia smiled politely and nodded. The truth was, after Bruce disappeared, she had buried herself in her job to fight off the depression that came with losing her friend. Instead of weaseling up the ranks by joining up with Falcone (she was certain that's how that ass Cassidy got here), she fought off the numerous bribe offers and earned a reputation in her precinct for competence, and it landed her here.

"So Benson, do you know what we do here at SVU?" asked Munch.

"Yes Captain, you handle victims of sexual assault, child abuse, and kidnapping," giving the textbook answer.

"That's what they do in the other cities, but here in Gotham, due to the activities of the various crime groups, namely Falcone, a lot of our work is done in conjunction with the organized crime squad, which is just a floor above us. Is that a problem for you?" After she shook her head, he sat back in his chair, "Alright, don't say I didn't warn you. Not many people last in this line of work without falling," he said, not elaborating further.

He didn't need to, for Olivia knew what he meant, become a lackey for Falcone. "Sir, may I ask not to be partnered with Detective Cassidy?"

Munch chuckled and peeked at her from underneath his glasses. "I expected that much. No Benson, I'm partnering you up with Detective Stabler, the one with the tattoo. He's got a hot temper, but he's the best man in the unit."

Olivia exhaled, one weight off her chest. "Thank you sir." Smiling down at Munch, she turned and entered the bullpen. "Meet your new partner Detective Stabler," she said to him, shaking his hand.

"Awwe man! You have all the luck Elliot."

"You know that I'm a happily married man Cassidy?" The other detective shrugged. He turned to Olivia, leading her into the hallway. "Don't get too hung up on Cassidy. He's useless here, but harmless."

"I don't thinks so Stabler. I've met guys like him before; either he's a genius detective or he's on the take."

"Well I know he's not the former," he said with a chuckle.

"How can you joke about this?" exclaimed Olivia, hating the corruption of the GPD even though it was like the hydra, root out one dirty cop and three more appear.

He sighed, looking her in the eyes. "Olivia, Lord knows how much I want to clean up the department. Munch is clean, but there are too many above him in Falcone's pockets. When you've been around as long as I have, you tend to do your best and accept the things you cannot change."

She was about to scold him some more when something about him convinced her that he was sincere. Before she could respond, Munch burst out of his office. "Heads up, we got a vic at Gotham General. Stabler, take Benson and take her statement."

"Coming Stabler," shouted Olivia, excited for her first case.

"Call me Elliot, Olivia."

"Alright El," she said, thinking it fit him.

"El, no one's ever called me by that name." She smirked, which caused him to do the same. "Ok Liv."

Her smirk disappeared, replaced with a look of sadness. Only one person had ever called her Liv, and Olivia hoped that he was alright.

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"_Do you feel responsibility for your parent's guilt?"_

"_My anger outweighs my guilt."_

On a frozen lake high in the mountains, Bruce raised his katana, circling with his new mentor, Don Cragen. The ice groaning under their combined weight, Bruce twirled the curved sword and lunged.

"_You have learned to bury your guilt with anger. I will teach you to confront it, and face the truth."_

Cragen easily parried Bruce's thrust, whirling around and launching a furious yet graceful counterstrike that sent Bruce tumbling onto the frozen lake. "Always mind your surroundings," he said, readying himself for Bruce's next move.

"_A true warrior must understand that invisibility is a matter of patience and agility."_

Rising, Bruce lunged in one direction, but then quickly swerved and thrust the sword in the other, which Cragen only just parried.

"_Theatricality and deception are powerful agents. To your opponent you must become more than just a man."_

"Good Bruce," said Cragen, his voice not showing any sign of stress or exertion. He parried another attack and broke off, the two circling each other again. "You blame yourself for your parents' death Bruce, but it wasn't your fault." A smirk appeared on his face, "It was your father's." Cragen lunged at Bruce, who deflected the blows, though it got harder and harder with each counter. Soon they were eye to eye, "Your anger does not hide the fact that your father failed to act." With one move, Cragen jerked upward, toppling Bruce and sending his sword flying in the air.

"The man had a gun," Bruce growled.

"Would that have stopped you?" Instead of responding, Bruce jumped up and skilfully deflected two blows with his armored wrist gauntlets. Cragen, summoning his strength, used his entire body to send Bruce skidding on the ice.

Not daunted, Bruce sprang up once again, the months of training giving him a new strength. Instead of making another charge, he jinked to the left, causing Cragen to ready himself. Seeing his teacher's reaction, he jinked right, and before Cragen could see his plan, Bruce grabbed his sword off the ice and charged. Cragen lost his footing at Bruce's lunge, and fell on the ice. "Yield," Bruce panted, exulted by his apparent victory.

"You haven't beaten me. In your quest for the killing blow, you have forgotten to mind your surroundings." Bruce stood confused. Cragen smiled softly, and tapped the ice with his sword. Before he could jump out of the way, Bruce fell through the ice into the freezing darkness.

Hours later, as the mountain was engulfed in the black embrace of night, Cragen and Bruce sat warming themselves in front of a crackling fire. "You are stronger than your father."

Bruce, rubbing his chest to warm his shivering body, looked up. "You didn't know my father."

"I know the anger deep inside you. I know how it usurps the grief until the very memory of your loved ones, alive or dead, becomes a poison in your veins and you wish that your loved ones never existed so your pain would disappear." Bruce opened his mouth to deny it but stopped, realizing that Cragen was right. The older man sighed, looking up at the star-studded heavens. "I wasn't always in the mountains. I once had a wife, my one love. She was taken from me, by people who have no shred of decency or morality. Men who I have dedicated my life to fight against." He looked back at Bruce, his grey eyes boring deeply at his charge. "Your anger gives you great power Bruce, but you must learn to control it as I did, lest it destroy you."

"Wow did you do it?"

"Vengeance."

"That's not an option to me."

"Why not Bruce? Why couldn't you avenge your parents?" And with that, Don Cragen finally made Bruce revisit his past demons, revisit the painful memories of his parents, Alfred, Alex, and Olivia.

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**Three Years later**

"Your training is almost complete Bruce," said Cragen as he was mixing a special brew. "You journeyed far and wide with hopes of understanding the criminal mind, but the criminal is not complicated. What you really fear lurks deep inside yourself. Until you come face to face with this fear, no amount of training or skill can substitute mastering that fear." He took a strange flower, mixing it with a bowl of hot water, releasing steam. "It is time to make the journey, for you are ready." He handed Bruce the cup. "Breathe."

Taking in deep breaths, Bruce was suddenly visited by terrifying visions; there was the night his parents were shot, the fear of losing Alex, Olivia, and Alfred to Falcone's thugs, and invading his mind like a cancer were the bats, hundreds of them, all seeming to fly straight toward him. Momentarily panicking, Bruce stumbled back, falling on the ground.

"Conquer your fears Bruce," came the wise voice of his mentor. "Men fear most what they cannot see." Rising to his feet, the homemade brew clouding his mind, Bruce came face to face with a wall of warriors, all dressed alike. Drawing his sword, Bruce knew that if he was to succeed, then he would have to find his mentor in this maze.

The warriors, as if guided by one mind, all moved in unison to clear a path for Bruce. "You have to become a wraith," moaned the eerie voice of Cragen, seemingly everywhere. "You have to become an idea!" Bruce was suddenly engaged in a furious hand-to-hand battle with his mentor, but was suddenly cut short by the movements of the soldiers, who all broke their column formation and reformed into rows.

The visions came back, visions of bats, bats engulfing everyone he ever loved. Suddenly, the rows parted into columns and Cragen emerged again, attacking with speed and agility. Bruce was knocked to the ground, a cut on his upper arm, before the warriors moved again. Unable to match the strength of his opponent, Bruce decided to try cunning. Quickly, he nicked two of the warriors in the same arm.

Cragen, walking slowly through the rows, spotted a wounded man. Raising his sword, he cleanly brought it to the man's neck. "You must not leave any trace," he said, removing his mask.

He then felt the blade hover above his own neck. "I didn't," said Bruce, removing his own mask. Cragen smirked, for he had taught his disciple well.

**A/N: Well, here is part one of Bruce's training in the League of Shadows, plus Olivia's introduction into SVU. I'll mention more of her character development in the next chapter, in addition to some heated League of Shadows action. For now, enjoy, and please Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey everybody, sorry for the delay, but I had a big Organic Chemistry exam that ate up my time. Here is part two of Bruce's time with the League of Shadows. I'll develop both Bruce and Olivia's characters here. Just to let you know, since they have a connection, both Bruce and Olivia will come to a similar revelation.**

**The events of this chapter will take place at the same time on the same day, seven years after Bruce left Gotham City.**

**Disclaimer: Much to my disappointment, I do not own SVU or the Dark Knight Trilogy. Those belong to Dick Wolf and Christopher Nolan respectively.**

Chapter 4: What is Justice?

It had been three years since Olivia transferred in to the GPD Special Victims Unit, and it had filled the void caused by her increasing loneliness since Bruce left. Sure Captain Munch had left to take the position as Police Commissioner, the new Captain was one of the prevalent look the other way types when it came to certain cases, and Cassidy still hadn't given up trying to sleep with her, but for the first time in her life she felt that she was worth something. Already, she had a reputation of not only being Badass Benson, but also as the most compassionate detective in the GPD. With her around, many victims who would have stayed silent in the old days could finally open up, and the case closure rate had skyrocketed.

On top of this, she finally had a friend in her partner, Sergeant Elliot Stabler. Almost like a father figure to her, while he had a reputation as being a hothead (the occasional perp with a busted nose or black eye could testify to that), he also possessed a deep sense of compassion that rivaled hers. On every major holiday, he would invite Olivia to dinner with his wonderful family; Elliot and his wife Kathy, daughters Maureen, Kathleen, and Elizabeth, and his son Richard always made her feel at home, a felling she had last felt before her mother forcibly removed her from Wayne Manor all those years ago. He was such a wonderful father, and that was a great asset on the many child cases the unit received. The two partners were famous in the GPD, as their closure rate was astronomical.

Molestation cases were always the hardest to deal with, as was the case today. After cops in Denver tracked a possible conversation about a brutal rape to Gotham, Elliot and Olivia had tracked it down to a twelve year old kid playing a practical joke. However, Olivia felt something was wrong, and while Cassidy and the Captain had both wanted to drop the case, Elliot and Commissioner Munch both backed her up, and they continued digging. What they uncovered would end in changing Olivia's life forever.

"Are you sure you don't want an attorney present Mr. Tripley?" asked Olivia in one of the precinct's many interrogation rooms.

Billy Tripley was gazing out of the triple-barred window. "I told you this before, I don't need a lawyer. I did nothing wrong!"

"I sincerely doubt that," said Elliot in the scratchy growl and forced grin that everyone but Olivia and only the most hardened criminals found terrifying. "Now, why would this boy accuse you of molesting him, hmm?" William Tripley was a billion-dollar toy executive and a major player the Gotham City social scene. It had come to a shock to many that he had been arrested, but not to the top team in the GPD. They had iron-clad evidence to prove his guilt, and God as their witness they were going to take him down.

"I have no idea. Money, publicity, I can't possibly tell you what makes people do such cruel things."

"People like you Mr. Tripley?" Olivia pursed her lips, looking him straight in the eye. Unlike Elliot, she couldn't use brute strength or anger to intimidate perps, but years of hardship and loss had made her tough, and this was the cause of her nickname Badass Benson. 'Well that and the fact I can take down a 200 pound construction worker with my bare hands,' she thought. "Why would you do such things Mr. Tripley?" The withering look she gave him made Tripley flinch.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" he stuttered, the interrogation getting to him. "I did not…"

He was silenced by Elliot ripping the table off the ground and hurling it at the far wall. "We know you did it you piece of filth!" he yelled in Tripley's face. Olivia's mouth contorted into a predatory grin. This was usually the time when the scum babble out a confession. Soon, they would have justice for the victim.

Before that could happen, the door to the room opened. "Detectives, a word," said Alexandra Cabot, the EADA for both Special Victims and Organized Crime. Both left the room stunned that Alex would take them out just on the verge of triumph, just on the verge of justice.

"What the Hell Alex!" barked Olivia at her cousin once the door was sealed. "We had him, and you took us out?"

"Sgt. Stabler, Detective Benson," said Alex in a frighteningly formal tone, "This is Marvin Exley, Mr. Tripley's lawyer."

Both Elliot and Olivia stared in shock. Exley was the go to lawyer for the Falcone crime family, and despite their skill and dedication, once a case involved Falcone, it went down the toilet. "Mr. Tripley didn't ask for a lawyer," growled Elliot.

"Consider this a favor from a mutual friend," said Exley, looking smug.

"You mean Carmine Falcone," hissed Olivia, getting madder and madder by the minute.

"I'm afraid that information is privileged detective. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to take my client home."

Elliot blocked his way, "No god damn way! He's going down for forcible rape of a minor."

"That'll be hard to do, considering the alleged victim recanted," Exley smirked. "As Miss Cabot will tell you, I have just delivered a video recantation and a sworn affidavit from the boy's parents that he lied to you. Here is a second copy for your squad to look over." He handed over a manila envelope, giving the two cops a sweet smile. 'Boy would I like to punch him in the teeth,' Olivia thought. By the look on her partner's face, he was fighting the urge to do the same.

Alex, looking grim, turned to her cousin. "I'm afraid he's right Detective. Let Mr. Tripley go."

Exley ducked under Elliot's burly arm into the interrogation room. Soon after, a now smug Billy Tripley left with him. "It was nice meeting you detectives," he said, smiling. The look Olivia sent back at him could have killed a whale.

Once they were out of sight, Elliot punched a file cabinet, leaving an impression of his fist in the Aluminum. Alex flinched while Olivia was nonplussed. Firstly, she was also as angry as her partner, and secondly, she knew that this was Stabler controlling himself. She glanced furiously at her cousin, "Once again, what the Hell Alex!"

"We had no choice Olivia," Alex replied, her voice filled with her own form of silent rage. Considering she was her last family left (excluding her mother, who couldn't be bothered to see her), Olivia spent as much time with the ADA as possible. Though Alex couldn't fill the void Bruce left, it did help. "My office received this five hours ago. We asked Briscoe in Organized Crime to find the victim, but his family disappeared."

"Falcone got to them!" yelled Elliot, finishing denting the office furniture. "They're probably halfway across the country by now!"

"Or dead," added Olivia, not ruling out anything involving Carmine Falcone's organization. "What's his connection to Tripley anyway?"

"They're both pedophiles. You know how organized they are Olivia." No matter how long she had worked at SVU, Olivia still learned new things every day, mostly things she would have rather stayed ignorant on. Elliot looked back at Alex, "Can we do anything?"

"Nope. I wish it was different, but with the victim gone we don't have enough to indict, let alone go to trial."

Olivia, feeling herself lose control, almost shoved Alex out of the way toward the bullpen, taking deep breaths. "Hey there gorgeous!" hooted Cassidy, the last person she wanted to hear. "I told you not to dig the last case. Now why don't the two of us get in my new BMW convertible, go get some dinner, and head back to my apartme…" His train of thought was interrupted by the right hook she gave his face.

"Fuck you!" she screamed, almost hyperventilating.

"Benson! My office, now!" Olivia looked back at her partner, a look of shock on his face (as was on the faces of the entire squad), wiped a sheen of sweat off her forehead, and stormed toward the Captain's office.

Cassidy, rubbing his jaw, blood smearing his hand from a busted lip, still wore a huge grin. "Feisty! That's my kind of girl!"

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Oh would you cut it out Cassidy!" he growled, getting into his face. "She says she doesn't want you, so leave her alone." His voice was barely above a whisper but had lost none of its terror inducing effect.

Cassidy though, wasn't cowed. "What are you going to do Stabler? Do you want her for yourself?"

Using all the self-control he had to keep from strangling the other detective, Elliot just glared. "No Cassidy, just shut your mouth. She doesn't want you, or the convertible bought and paid for by Carmine Falcone." He smirked, finally making the other man pale.

"Leave him alone El. He isn't worth your time." Elliot turned to see Olivia walking out of the Captain's office. Pausing to give one last glare at Cassidy, he rushed to join her.

Olivia was waiting for the elevator when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Liv, you alright?"

She shrugged. "Cap yelled at me for ten minutes straight and ordered me home. I'll go catch a cab."

"No, let me drive you. We can talk about what happened back there."

"Ok." Aside from Bruce and Alex, the only one she could confide in was Elliot.

Despite their resolve to talk, they were both silent for the first half of the drive, both unsure of what to say. Finally, going for broke, Elliot blurted, "What was that about Liv?"

She scoffed, "That corrupt oaf wouldn't get a hint."

"That's not what's bothering you Olivia. Tell me the truth."

"What are we doing El?" she said angrily, looking at him. "You've been on the force longer than I have, yet how could you have the strength to keep going on?"

I do it to help the people of Gotham. If the good men do nothing, then evil will run rampant."

"Evil is already rampant. The city is broken and no one has the guts to take a stand."

"What can you do Liv? Don a mask and go take down Falcone single handedly?" He chuckled at the thought.

"That's infinitely better than what's going on now. You said a long time ago, when we first became partners, that we at SVU fight to get the victims justice." She opened the door as he pulled next to her apartment in the Narrows. "El, this isn't justice." She shut the door and walked to her building.

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"Impressive is the only adjective to describe your level of skill," said Ra's al Ghul, clapping. Bruce had only seen him once before, on the day he began his training. The leader of the League of Shadows was dressed like a Buddhist monk, with a shaved head and two walrus tusk-like beards that flanked his chin. Despite his obvious age, al Ghul had the eyes and muscles of a trained killer, as did every member of the League. Chanting in a foreign language, he dipped a piece of metal into a coal brazier and raised it, glowing in the amber color of hot steel. "You are the first Gothamite to show this level of skill in quite a while."

"Who was the last?" said Bruce.

Cragen, standing to his right, answered that. "Someone who, let's just say, was taken in by certain unreliable elements of the group. No one you need to worry about." Al Ghul let out another deep chant. "We have purged your fear Bruce," translated Cragen. "You are ready to lead these men; ready to become a member of the League of Shadows."

"I am deeply humbled by this honor you are bestowing upon me," replied Bruce, his face not betraying any emotion.

Turning his head toward his apprentice, Cragen motioned to some of his men. "First Bruce, you must show your commitment to true justice. Bring him here!" A masked guard dragged a portly, crying man into the room by his hair and forced him on his knees. "This man was once a farmer Bruce. Then one day he decided to covet his neighbor's land and tried to take it, becoming a murderer. Crime cannot be tolerated Bruce; criminals thrive on the indulgence of society's understanding." He stopped, handing Bruce an unsheathed sword.

Although outwardly calm, Bruce was inwardly horrified at what they were about to make him do. 'This is not why I came here,' he thought. 'If I kill him, it will only make me what I have always hated, a Falcone or a Skinner. How could I ever look Alfred, Alex, or Olivia in the eye again if I do?' He took a deep breath through his nostrils before turning his head to face his mentor and father-figure for the last three years. He then shifted his gaze to Ra's al Ghul, who seemed to be waiting patiently for his next move. "No," Bruce finally said, addressing both of them. "I'm no executioner."

Neither Cragen nor the leader of the League seemed shocked at Bruce's intransigence. "Your compassion is a weakness our enemies will not share," said Cragen.

"That is why it is so important," replied Bruce coolly, finally realizing the truth behind Olivia and Alex's comments on the day Skinner died. "It separates us from them."

Realizing Bruce's true feelings as more than just hesitation, Cragen's voice rose, his temper flaring. "You want to fight criminals; this man is a murderer!"

"Then he should be tried."

"By whom?" Cragen spat, "Corrupt Bureaucrats? Criminals mock society's laws. You know this better than most," pleaded Cragen, hoping his apprentice could see the truth.

Bruce lowered his head, the last comment bringing back memories of that fateful talk in Alex's car. He was brought out of his reverie by Ra's al Ghul, choosing to join the conversation. "You cannot lead these men, unless you are prepared to do all that is necessary to defeat evil."

Sensing something deeper than an execution in the mind of his prospective leader, Bruce decided to start digging for information. "And where would I be leading these men?"

The response made him blink in horror. "Gotham." When Bruce did not respond, al Ghul explained further. "As Gotham City's favorite son, you will be ideally placed to strike at the heart of criminality and corruption."

"How?" Bruce asked, trying to hide his inner terror. 'Do they mean to strike at people like Falcone, or the entire population?'

"Gotham's time has come. Like Constantinople or Rome before it, the city has become a cesspool of corruption and injustice. It cannot be rescued, and must therefore be destroyed. This is the true mission of the League of Shadows young one. Gotham must be wiped out, all of it."

There, it was said. Not only would the swine like Falcone be killed, but also the innocents like Alex and Olivia. Bruce turned to Cragen and whispered, "You cannot possibly believe in this?"

"Ra's al Ghul rescued us from the darkest corners of our own hearts," replied his mentor in a cold tone. "What he asks from us is the courage to do what is right."

"There are still good souls in Gotham. I will go back and fight men like this alongside them. Under no circumstances though, will I become an executioner!" he said in a low growl.

"Bruce please," Cragen begged, looking him in the eye. "You are like a son to me. For your own sake, there is no turning back."

Bruce stared back into Cragen's eyes, then looked down at the sword, shifted to Ra's al Ghul, and then back at Cragen. He took a deep breath and tightened both hands around the sword, advancing toward the prisoner, who was now shaking and babbling for his life. "You must deliver justice," pronounced Ra's al Ghul.

Tapping the sword softly on the man's neck, the prisoner looked back at him, his eyes filled with tears. Bruce clenched his jaw, summoning the courage for what he was about to do, and unlike when he readied the gun to kill Skinner, he knew now what he was doing was right. "This isn't justice," he whispered, and in full view of Ra's al Ghul, Don Cragen, and the entire League of Shadows, Bruce flicked the hot poker out of the brazier, watching it as it landed near several barrels of gunpowder.

"What are you doing?" shouted Cragen, looking at him in shock.

"What is necessary my friend," replied Bruce as he hit his mentor and surrogate father in the face with the hilt of his sword. He quickly dispatched the guard and went after Ra's al Ghul, who had drawn his sword as well. The other warriors drew their weapons but al Ghul silenced them, going after Bruce in one-on-one combat. He let out a piercing battle cry and lunged at Bruce, stabbing and slashing wildly. Bruce easily parried the attacks, watching the master bury his sword in a wooden column. Al Ghul detached his weapon when one of the gunpowder barrels exploded, covering the room in debris and causing the assembled warriors to flee. Bruce and al Ghul continued their struggle, oblivious to the deafening explosions rocking the building, with fires spreading with each successive blast. Being younger, Bruce had the advantage in strength and stamina, but the older, more experienced al Ghul had skill on his side; both traded the initiative, slashing and parrying wildly. Deflecting a blow, Bruce unknowingly left his unarmored back open, an opportunity to which the master wasted no time to exploit. He raised his sword, ready to drive it through Bruce's heart.

Another explosion, this one close, saved Bruce's life. Throwing them both back, Bruce recovered himself quickly, getting to his knees. Al Ghul was thrown flat on his back, and was able to let out a cry as several beams, weakened by fire, fell on him. Bruce looked, saw the master was dead, and ran to his mentor.

Summoning all the strength his muscles, training, and adrenaline could give him, Bruce lifted Cragen on to his back and ran like hell to the window, flames licking all around him. Just as he jumped out of the building that housed the League of Shadows, the fire had reached the main powder hold. Falling to the ground, Bruce felt the intense heat as the entire complex blew up, sending chucks of flaming wreckage all over the chilly mountain landscape. Glancing at his mentor, who as knocked out cold, he lifted him on his shoulders yet again, bent on saving his life.

He reached a small village located about a mile down the mountainside. Leaving Cragen with the local doctor, he bowed humbly at the man who became a second father to him. Exiting the hut, he turned and trudged through the primitive village toward the mountain road, his mind going a mile a minute. He was going to get justice; all he needed was a plan.

**A/N: I know, a little longer than the first three, but there was a lot to cover. I wanted to describe more about how Bruce and Olivia start the journey to what is to follow. Next up, the return to Gotham, some productive exploring, and the appearance of an unlikely SVU character ;)**

How many times


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello all. Sorry it's been a while. Classes have been a bitch, but I'm back and ready for some more updates. **

**First off, the next few chapters will be mostly like the movie, but we'll see some new stuff coming up. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Yeh, I know I don't own anything, much as I would want to!**

Chapter 5: Planning

Disembarking from the Gulfstream III private jet, Alfred Pennyworth was beaming. "Good to see you again Master Bruce. You look dashing as always."

Bruce smiled back at the man who had practically raised him since his parents died. Dressed in a tattered jacket and what was left of his warrior's trousers (it had been a week since he had left Cragen with the village doctor), he didn't have the usual dapper look Wayne men had appropriated as their own, although to the discerning eye he did have a sort of rugged charm. "Thank you Alfred."

"Apart from the mud of course." Bruce let out a small chuckle. God it was good to see the old butler again. Trotting up the steps to the aircraft, Bruce settled down in the leather armchair, waiting for Alfred to join him. "So Master Bruce," he said as the pilot prepared for take-off, "We have a long flight ahead of us. Anything on your mind?"

Several hours and many difficult and probing questions later, Alfred sighed. If he knew his ward, which he did, there was no stopping Bruce when he set his mind on something. "So how long will you stay in Gotham sir?"

Bruce, gazing out the window at the ocean below, didn't turn his head to respond, "As long as it takes. I want to show the people of Gotham their city doesn't belong to the criminals or the corrupt, and I want to embolden the righteous to overcome their fear and do the same."

"I'm gathering that includes a certain brunette detective and blonde lawyer." Bruce answered that with the classic Wayne smirk. Chuckling for a moment, Alfred proceeded with his train of thought. "In the economic crises back during your early childhood, your father nearly bankrupted himself and Wayne Enterprises combatting the ills of society. He believed that it was the God-given duty of the fortunate to help those unfortunates who were needlessly suffering. He hoped that his example would serve as an inspiration so that others would join his endeavor."

"Did it?"

"Yes, but in a different way than he expected." At Bruce's slightly confused expression, Alfred elaborated, "Their murder shocked the wealthy and the powerful into action."

Bruce gazed down, the rage he had felt for all those years gone. Thanks to Cragen's training, the mention of their murders, though still painful, did not cloud his judgment. Alfred, noticing this, inwardly nodded, thankful that Bruce had finally moved on.

After a short silence, Bruce looked back up, "This just proves my point. People need dramatic examples to shake them out of their apathy and notice that their house is on fire. I have the training and determination to create those examples but I can't do that as Bruce Wayne. As a man, I am merely flesh and blood, inherently mortal. As a symbol, I can be immortal, incorruptible, transcend the confines of my mortality."

Alfred raised his eyebrow, intrigued and horrified at the same time. "What sort of symbol?"

"Something… ethereal; something… terrifying."

"I assume, as you're taking on the underworld single handedly, this symbol is also a persona to protect your loved ones from reprisals?"

"You're talking about Olivia and Alex?" Bruce probed, his heart warming at the mention of his oldest and most dear friends.

"Actually sir, I was thinking of myself," stammered Alfred, laughing nervously.

Bruce smirked for a moment, only to return to his serious tone. "Have you told anyone I'm coming back?"

Alfred laughed again, "No sir. I had to consider the legal ramifications of bringing you back from the dead."

"Dead?" blurted Bruce, shocked.

"You have been gone seven years Master Bruce."

Bruce scowled. "You had me declared dead?"

"Actually it was Mr. Earle," replied Alfred, referring to the current President of Wayne Enterprises. "He has many plans for the company, including taking it public. The only thing standing in his way was your majority shareholdings, which were worth quite a bit of money."

Taking this new information in, Bruce nodded his head, smirking. "It's a good thing I left everything to you then."

"Quite so sir." Not being as young as he used to be, the act of flying to Bhutan and back on short notice tired him out. "Wake me up when we get there," he said, leaning back in his leather seat. "You can borrow the Rolls if you like. Just bring it back with a full tank." Bruce shook his head, smiling. Filling up on gas was going to be the least of his worries once he landed.

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'I hate court days!' thought Sgt. Elliot Stabler, his promotion still fresh off the desk of Commissioner Munch. While he hated to inflict pain on innocents, he wished Olivia was here to help him contain his anger (not that she would be any less angry). For nearly four nonstop days, at most six hours of sleep total, and no contact with Kathy or his kids, they had finally closed their case. The best team in the GPD, with the assistance of Briscoe and Green from Organized crime, arrested the perpetrator of a brutal quadruple homicide of a family that got on the bad side of the Falcone crime family, one who nearly sliced Olivia's neck open and did a number on the two surviving victims. The look on the little boy's eyes after the ordeal was over still haunted Elliot, even with three days off spent with his family. Kathy often saw him looking at Dickie, his son, almost imagining it was him.

Now though, the only emotion he felt was anger. 'We busted our hump to catch this psycho, and now this smug asshole of a psychiatrist is fucking it all up!'

"In my opinion," droned the professional looking expert witness, "Mr. Gitano is not only a danger to others, but also presents a significant danger to himself. Thusly, it is my opinion that prison is not the best environment for his rehabilitation, and I believe he should be remanded to Arkham where he can get the help he so desperately needs."

Victor Gitano smirked, making Elliot want to smash his teeth in with a nightstick. As with the rest of Falcone's crew of merry men, the Enforcer as he was called was a sadistic pervert who enjoyed pain, focusing on children because they were the easiest to control. He prayed to God that this bastard did not go free, even knowing from experience that he would be.

Marvin Exley wasted no time. "With the doctor's testimony your honor, I ask that the defendant be declared unfit to stand trial."

"Your honor," shouted Alex Cabot, jumping out of her chair, "This is a flagrant attempt by the defense into avoiding a capital murder charge that he would most surely lose!"

"I cannot ignore the testimony of an expert witness Miss Cabot, especially one as distinguished as this," replied Judge Petrofsky. "I rule that Mr. Gitano is unfit to stand trial and that he be remanded to Arkham Asylum until he is fit. This court is adjourned." As the bailiff led Gitano away, the Enforcer turned and stared at Elliot, a predatory grin spread across his face.

His fists clenched tightly, Elliot stormed over to the prosecution table. "What the hell was that Alex? He kills four people, tortures two kids, nearly kills Olivia, and holds a shotgun to my head. How did that motherfucker get sent to the loony bin instead of Hell where he belongs?" Elliot knew it had something to do with Falcone, but was still confused with what had transpired since Petrofsky wasn't corrupt (to his knowledge).

Alex looked to the back of the courtroom, seeing the good doctor chatting with Exley before leaving. "I don't know Elliot, but I'm going to find out." With that, she turned and stormed out of the courtroom, hot on the trail of the doctor. Elliot just stood there, waiting for the room to empty. Once Exley walked out, he slammed his fist hard on the table, some of the bile and steam leeching out of his system. "Boy is Liv going to be fucking pissed!" he growled.

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Rushing as fast as her five hundred dollar high heels could allow her, Alex looked down the steps inside the courthouse, seeing her intended target strolling toward the exit. "Doctor Huang!" she called, causing him to turn slightly.

"Ah, Miss Cabot," replied the director of Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. "For what do I owe the pleasure on this beautiful morning?" For dealing with the most mentally damaged people on the planet, Dr. Huang had a huge chip on his shoulder.

Alex was not about to fall for Huang's mind games. "Can you elaborate on how a sadistic freak who happily sells his services as a butcher for the mob doesn't belong in jail?" she spat, pulling alongside him.

Huang remained nonplussed, "Well I wouldn't have testified in the affirmative if I didn't Miss Cabot."

If Badass Benson was part of this conversation, Huang would be up against the wall enduring the vilest profanity in the English language. Loving her cousin though she did, Alex was glad she wasn't here; a little more finesse was called for. "This is the third of Carmine Falcone's thugs you had declared unfit for trial and sent into your Asylum. That cannot be a coincidence."

"The work of Organized Crime must have a particular appeal to the insane," said Huang. Alex folded her arms, for the doctor had a point. Smirking at her seeming loss of words, the Huang started walking away.

"Or the corrupt," shouted Alex from behind him. His smirk turned into a frustrated sigh, which turned back into a smirk seeing a familiar figure in the hallway.

"Mr. McCoy," he called out to the District Attorney, who had been chatting with Miss Ross from Special Frauds. "I think you should check with Miss Cabot here just what implications your office has authorized her to make, if any." He turned, smiled at Alex, and walked away toward the door.

McCoy, giving Ross a kiss on the cheek (rumor was they were lovers), began to approach Alex, shaking his head. He was a damn good, honest prosecutor but didn't rock the boat in any way, which was why the mob didn't touch him. Alex figured it was better than having a corrupt pig in the DA's office, but often she was frustrated at McCoy's ineffectiveness.

"What are you doing Alex?" he whispered to her when no one was in earshot.

"What are you doing Jack?" she scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Looking out for you!" he spat, turning his head both ways, paranoid (a good trait to have in Gotham). "Falcone has half of Gotham bought and paid for, including here in the DA's office. Me, Ross, Barba, Dent from Internal Affairs, we are all you can trust here. As much as I want Falcone rotting in prison, it's just too dangerous. I care about you too much."

Alex smiled, "That's sweet Jack." She gave him a friendly peck on the cheek. "But we've been through all that, and I don't want Jamie to get jealous, for your sake." She turned and walked back into the courthouse office areas, oblivious to the man in a cheap hoodie, looking in from the outside and feeling jealousy of his own.

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For the last week since he arrived back in Gotham, unnoticed of course, Bruce had buried himself in planning and research for his new project. Making a list of everyone that might be helpful to him, he did background checks on their lives using the techniques taught him by Cragen and the League. Along with Olivia (who had seemed to have gotten up in the world) and Alex (he still didn't quite understand why seeing her kiss DA McCoy was making him jealous), the list included Sgt. Elliot Stabler of the Gotham Special Victim's Unit and one interesting employee of Wayne Enterprises. By day eight of his return, all had been figured out except for three crucial items: inside information, a base of operations, and a persona.

He was stumped about the last two until one day in his study, Bruce found a bat flying through the Manor. Remembering his childhood fear and hearing Alfred mention that they nested somewhere in the grounds, Bruce finally had his idea.

The old well where Bruce had fallen into while playing with Alex and Olivia was still there, looking just like it did all those years ago. Rappelling down to the bottom, Bruce looked around and saw the hellish tunnel through that so terrified him as a child. Instead of panicking, he nonchalantly shined a flashlight into the maw of the cave, banishing the darkness. Crawling on hands and knees through the narrow opening, he came upon a large cavern, carved by an underground stream that filled the cave with its sounds. Brushing the dirt off his coat, Bruce walked slowly through the cave, familiarizing himself with this yet undiscovered part of Wayne Manor. As he explored deeper, the sounds of running water were drowned out by the cacophony of bat shrieks and squeals. Taking out a strobe light from his tote bag, Bruce illuminated the ceiling above him, trying to get a good look at what he uncovered.

The swarm of bats nearly enveloped him, knocking him to his feet. While this would have been enough to send the old Bruce Wayne into a panic attack, the new Bruce Wayne simply stood up, a small smirk plastered on his face. 'This will do quite nicely.'

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"Look Mr. Falcone," said Dr. George Huang with a smug smile spread across his otherwise impassive face, "You and I both know that you are not intimidated by me. However, you do know who I am working for. When he comes here…"

"Hold on," stuttered Carmine Falcone, for one of the few times in his life afraid. "He's coming to Gotham?"

"He is," replied Huang, taking off his glasses and staring into Falcone's eyes. "And when he gets here, he won't be pleased that you're endangering the operation just to get your thugs out of jail or some new pubescent girls into your bed."

Falcone sighed, knowing when he was beat. "Who's bothering you?"

"There's a girl in the DA's office."

"We'll buy her off."

"Not this one. She's close to the two cops in SVU that are always causing you trouble, and like them she's got integrity."

"I have the cops wrapped around my finger, so don't worry about Benson and Stabler, but this idealist?" He chuckled devilishly. "There's an answer to that too."

Huang nodded, "I don't want to know."

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"You're hurting me pig!" screamed the ripped perp, straining against the handcuffs clasped tightly around his wrists.

"You're a rapist who likes to burn our victims. You're lucky I don't hurt you worse!" shouted the arresting officer, who for such a delicate woman had almost superhuman strength.

"Those bitches wanted it," snarled the man, a serial rapist the unit had been hunting for the past two months. The growl was replaced by a smug grin, "Just like I know you do." He jerked his shackled hands upward, cupping her breasts and squeezing roughly.

Five very intense seconds later, the man was on the ground, his arm broken and his face a bloody mess. Stabler and the Captain both rushed out of the bullpen to see what happened. "Damn Liv!" laughed Stabler, shaking his head. "It amazes me how a little lady like you can take down something like that!"

Olivia raised an eyebrow at her partner. "Little Lady," she said softly, her voice chillingly frightening.

Looking sheepish, Elliot gazed at the floor, avoiding her stare. "Just and expression Liv."

To his surprise she laughed. "Just messing with you El!" she cackled, slapping him on the arm.

The Captain sighed, "Go home Benson. Stabler and Breslin can handle the interrogation."

Tapping Elliot on the shoulder, Olivia walked out of the interrogation area, passing through the bullpen. Relieved that Cassidy wasn't here (he never seemed to get her last hint, even with a broken nose), she entered the hallway heading for the elevators.

"Nice to see Badass Benson in action again."

Olivia froze. She would recognize that voice anywhere, but could not believe it. She turned slowly, letting out a gasp when she saw him, her oldest friend. "Bruce," she whispered.

Bruce smirked back at her. "It's nice to see you Olivi…" he was cut off by the enormous bear hug she gave him.

**A/N: Ended with sort of a cliffhanger. Next up, Bruce meets up with an employee of Wayne Enterprises, and an interesting chat with Olivia.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry about not updating for a while. Before the last one I had a lot of stuff for college on my plate. I want to get some good writing done before the next few exams, so here it is.**

**Please review or contact me, because how else can I get your opinions?**

**Disclaimer: Since both products aren't as kick-ass as they should be, I do not own them.**

Chapter 6: Tools of the trade

"Detective Benson," said Bruce, pronouncing every syllable. "Detective Badass Benson. Say whatever you want Liv, but it does suit you."

From the passenger seat of the Rolls Royce, Olivia smiled. "You haven't changed at all."

"No Liv, I have. I put the past behind me and am concentrating on the future."

"Exactly," she responded, earning her a confused frown. "You're back to your old self, before that horrible night. In the seven years you were gone Bruce, I prayed every day that you would come back as the loving boy I grew up with, not the haunted wraith who brought a gun to Skinner's hearing."

His throat suddenly constricting, Bruce loosened his tie, trying to breathe. "Alex told you," he finally stammered, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Now it was Olivia's turn to be shocked, "No, I saw the gun in your hand before you left the courthouse. Alex knew?"

Bruce sighed, seeing no way out of telling the truth. "I confessed it to her before I decided to leave." He wasn't about to tell her of his League of Shadows training or his new plans. The point of having a persona was to protect the ones he cared about, and if they knew it defeated the whole purpose. "I didn't know you knew."

"I'm a detective aren't I," she said with a smirk. Seeing Bruce wasn't laughing, Olivia reached out with her hand and squeezed her shoulder. "What's past is past Bruce. I'm just glad you're home. Alex will be thrilled."

"Don't tell her I'm back yet Liv."

She swerved her head with lightning reflexes, her dark brown eyes wide. "Why the hell not? She's your friend Bruce. She deserves to see you."

'Gee, because I think I have feelings for her,' he thought. Bruce couldn't say that though. "I'm just not ready to face her yet. When I am, I'll visit her myself." Sensing the conversation taking a wrong turn, he changed the subject. "So how's your new job going?"

She gazed out the window, "It's hard to describe. Some of the cases we get, especially the ones involving children, it's heart wrenching. I've seen things that would make a weaker person lose her faith in God. However, it's also the most fulfilling job in the world. God finally gave me a true purpose in life, showing me what I was meant to do. When I get justice for a victim, I know that I have made a difference in their lives for the better, creating a ray of hope in this cursed city."

Bruce smiled, overjoyed his best friend had found a purpose in the last seven years like he had. "With the proclivities of the Falcone organization, you work with Organized Crime a lot right?" he questioned, hoping she didn't realize he was pumping her for information.

"Almost every other case. Those are the ones I hate though. Not only does it have the same gut-wrenching issues I outlined earlier, but also they always get dropped because some asshole wants a sports car and sees Falcone as a way to get one!" The last few sentences were a snarl.

"I take it from the Badass Benson tone that you're talking about someone specific?"

"Yep; Brian Cassidy, a real piece of work. Flaunts his expensive toys like a three year old, never shows any compassion to the victims, and on top of that he keeps hitting on me."

"I'm surprised he's still alive!"

Olivia shrugged, "He won't be for long if he keeps doing that. Even a broken nose doesn't discourage him."

"Badass Benson strikes! Good for you. You and your partner, though, have been in some sticky situations together I hear."

She chuckled a little at that. Only Bruce could make her laugh at a moment's notice. "Yeh, Sgt. Elliot Stabler, best damn cop in the Gotham Police Department, after yours truly of course." She gave him a cocky grin. Taking his gaze of the road for a moment, he smirked, looking in her eyes with his green orbs, which penetrated her like her brown ones did to him.

"So I take it that he doesn't work for Falcone?" he asked, needing the information but hating using Olivia to get it.

"God no! He's honest to the core. I've run into hundreds of dirty cops in my years on the force, several in my own precinct, and Elliot Stabler is not one of them."

"You care for him don't you?" said Bruce, who could read Olivia like a book (exactly like she could read him).

"Of course. He's like the father and older brother I never had wrapped into one. Sometimes, when I have dinner with his wife and children, I wish I was part of a family like that."

"You have me Liv. And Alex. And Alfred, who thinks of you as his daughter."

Olivia looked at him with the warmest smile she could muster. "I know Bruce, and I'll always be grateful, but after your parents died and my mother took me away, we hardly saw each other. Stuck with that drunken monster was a nightmare, and it was made worse with the fact that I knew what a loving home felt like."

She felt a hand gripping hers. "Don't worry Liv, I'm not leaving again. Me, Alfred, Alex, we are your family and will always be." Olivia was shocked beyond belief, for once bereft of words. "Ah, we are here." He turned the Rolls into a covered driveway in the heart of Gotham's Business District. He quickly got out of the car and trotted to the passenger side, opening the door for Olivia. "I need to handle a few things for a while. Think you can watch over this brand new Rolls Royce for me detective?" he asked, a questioning look on his face.

Olivia laughed. "I won't make any promises." She gave him a hug and drove the car away, still reflecting on his words.

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The boardroom of Wayne enterprises was packed for today's meeting. Every member of the board of directors made sure to be present due to the impending decision to take the company public. "We are showing healthy growth in the Security Division. Sales are up nearly one hundred and fifty percent from last year alone with the acquiring of new markets," remarked the Executive Vice President, reading off an interoffice memo.

"Hold on a moment," interrupted the Chairman Emeritus, a dignified older gentleman who had served on the board for nearly thirty years. "Am I the only one who sees something wrong about this? I don't think Thomas Wayne would have approved for the sale of heavy armaments to foreign bidders as a suitable cornerstone for this Company."

"Well that was twenty years ago Fredricks," said President William Earle. With the profits from the other divisions rising but Security staying stagnant, it had been his decision to expand the customer base beyond the US and British militaries. This decision alone had resulted in billions of dollars in profits, a decision he was proud of. "Wayne nearly bankrupted this company with his profligate altruism. I think that after twenty years in which we have seen our company skyrocket into the Top 20 in net profits we can stop worrying about what Thomas Wayne would have done." Fredricks sighed, knowing that the majority approved with Earle.

Unbeknownst to them, outside the boardroom came the son of Thomas Wayne. Only five minutes after leaving Olivia with the car, Bruce stood in front of Earle's private secretary, buys taking phone calls and rerouting them to the proper channels. "Excuse me," he said in his most charming voice, "I'm here to see Mr. Earle."

"Name," replied the secretary, not bothering to look up from her desk.

"Bruce Wayne." The secretary stopped whatever she was doing, looking up at him wild-eyed.

Meanwhile, back in the boardroom, "Thomas would have probably not taken the company public. However, as responsible managers that is what we are going to do." Earle pressed the intercom by his seat to call his secretary. "Jessica." No response was heard, so he tried again. Frustrated, he stood and made his way to the door. "Jessica why aren't you answering the phone?" He came upon his secretary playing coffee cup golf with a young man in a dashing black suit.

"It's Wayne Enterprises Mr. Earle," said Bruce, turning around with a smirk. "I'm sure they'll call back."

Earle, along with the rest of the board, looked at him dumbfounded. "Bruce? You're supposed to be dead."

"Sorry to disappoint."

Later, once the meeting had ended, Earle and Bruce had retired to his office for a glass of scotch. "I'm glad you're back Bruce, but you have to realize that I can't stop the big machine. Too many wheels turning now that we're going public; it's full steam ahead till the big day."

"I understand," replied Bruce in a business-like tone. He didn't much like Earle but he wasn't here on a social call. "I'm not looking to interfere, although I gather that I will be handsomely rewarded for my shares."

Earle extended his glass. "Naturally."

'Time to drop the bomb.' "I am looking for a job."

Sipping his liquor, Earle raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I want to get to know the company my family built. What better way is there?"

"None than I can see. What job do you have in mind?"

"Applied Sciences caught my eye."

"Ahh, that sounds right up your alley. I'll make a call, get you set up." He refilled his glass. "You look so much like your father it's uncanny. You're the only one left of the Wayne Family, and this Bruce, is where you belong." He raised his glass in a toast. "Welcome home." Both of them drank to that. "Oh Bruce, just to warn you, the director of Applied Sciences, watch out. He's a bit, uhh, eccentric."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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At the DA's office, Alex and McCoy were working up a storm drafting motions and going over evidence regarding several major cases. Dressed in a comfortable blouse and sweatpants, Alex walked in to McCoy's office carrying several files underneath her arm. "Jack, here is the warrant information concerning the Richard White case."

"Thanks. By the way, have you seen him yet?"

Alex gave her boss a perplexed look. "Who?"

"Wayne. It's all over the papers; he's back in town."

Not answering, Alex turned and walked out of the office feeling slightly let down.

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Lucius Fox was an unhappy and unfulfilled man. Here he was, with a 159 IQ and a masters from MIT in engineering, stuck in a dank, run-down basement office with nothing to do but tinker with the useless technology that had been red-lighted for mass production. He often asked God if he should quit Wayne Enterprises and take a professorship at his Alma Mater. That would be boring, but it would be a hell of a lot better than this crap.

Today though, an unsuspected visitor brightened up his mood, mostly because it had been months since anyone remembered he was down here. "Well Mr. Wayne, this is a pleasant surprise," said Fox, giving his guest a friendly smile.

"Likewise Mr. Fox," replied Bruce, who took a quick liking to the silver-haired engineer.

"So," Fox leaned back in his ratty vinyl chair. "What brings the great scion to the ass end of Wayne Enterprises?"

Bruce couldn't help but smirk at Fox's attitude. "Mr. Earle was right about you being eccentric. I was curious as to this department's activities. What does Applied Sciences do exactly?"

Fox raised any eyebrow. "What did Earle tell you what this place was?"

"They didn't tell me anything."

Sighing, Fox flicked a switch on the wall. About a dozen fluorescent lights, buzzing and flickering with age (as he had said to Bruce earlier, this was the ass end of the company), turned on, illuminating the hallways of the basement storage facility. "Officially, this is where we keep the unused prototypes not cleared for manufacture. However, Earle told me exactly what this place was when he sent me down here."

"Which was?"

"Dead End," answered Fox, letting those two words speak for themselves. At the last minute, he explained further. "Place to keep someone in order for said someone to stop causing the Board any more trouble."

"You were on the Board?" asked Bruce as they walked down the min hallway.

"Yep; your father poached me from Lockheed before you were born and I rose through the ranks. A good man your father; I even helped him build his train." Bruce nodded, knowing Fox was referring to the renowned Gotham City mass transit system. "Ah, here we are." Fox pointed to a plastic box, opening it to reveal a hodgepodge of little gadgets. "Kevlar utility harness, gas-powered magnetic grapple gun, and the three hundred pound Tess monofilament," he listed. Bruce nodded his head, his mind racing with thoughts of how he could use this equipment.

"Wonderful project your dad's train," continued Fox as they made their way to the next item. "We routed it through Wayne Tower, along with the utility pipes. Sort of made Wayne Tower the unofficial hub of Gotham City. Of course, Earle let it go to rot pursuing other ventures; here it is." He opened a pressurized cabinet to reveal an armored vest. "Novex survival suit for infantrymen. Advanced synthetic polymer armor gives it twice the strength as Kevlar."

"Tear resistant?" asked Bruce, even more intrigued than with the other gear he had been shown."

"This sucker could stop a knife."

"Bulletproof?"

"It'll stop pistol rounds and glancing blows."

"Why wasn't it put into production?"

"Bean counters didn't think a soldier's life was worth three hundred grand. So what is your interest in my collection Mr. Wayne?"

"I want to borrow it," Bruce replied nonchalantly, "For spelunking."

"Spelunking?"

"Yeh, you know, uhh, cave diving."

Fox pursed his lips, too smart to believe it but also too smart to pry further. "You expect to run into much gunfire in these caves?"

Bruce hesitated, knowing that he couldn't slip some bullshit passed Fox. He decided to avoid the question. "Look, I'd rather Mr. Earle didn't know about this."

Smirking, Fox looked Bruce in the eye. "As far as I see it Mr. Wayne, all this stuff is yours anyway."

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Swinging the hammer one last time, Bruce put the last touches on the electrical systems for his new cavernous lair. "Ok Alfred, start it up."

Alfred, looking comically out of place in his customary suit and tie, flipped the switch, bathing the cavern in the warm glow of the halogen lights Bruce had installed. "Charming," he quipped in his classic understatement. He glanced up at the ceiling, which was home to several fluttering bats. "Well, at least you'll have company."

Bruce rappelled down, catching sight of something strange. "Is that the lowest foundation for the southeast wing?"

"Good eye Master Bruce. I'm glad you were paying attention to my lessons all those years ago." Instead of replying, Bruce started to climb toward it. 'There he goes again' thought Alfred, trying to keep his suit dry. "During the Civil War, your great-great-grandfather used this passage in the underground railroad, trying to help freed slaves escape to the north. These caverns, I suspect, came in handy for him."

Bruce ignored the history lesson, focusing on the broken down pulley elevator. "Looks like we have some more work to do."

"Of course sir," said Alfred, sighing.

Hours later, warm and dry back in the Manor, the infantry armor sporting a new coat of black paint. Alfred and Bruce sat at a desk going over some schematics. "We'll order the main part of this from Singapore."

"Via a dummy corporation?" interjected Bruce.

"Indeed, and then quite separately, acquire these two parts from the Republic of China."

"Put it together ourselves; I like it."

"They'll have to be large orders you know, so as not to arouse suspicion."

"How large?"

"Ten thousand should do the trick."

Bruce looked at the butler in disbelief. "Well," he sighed, "At least we'll have spares."

"I must be rubbing off on you sir."

Bruce chuckled, picking up the finished schematic. 'This'll do quite nicely' he thought, looking at the mask, which had the distinctive look of a bat.

**A/N: The action will come soon I promise. Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hi all my devoted readers. To make up for my tardiness, I'm posting this chapter on the heels of the last one. **

**The next few will be pretty Bruce-centric with the development of the Batman, but be patient; we'll see a lot of Liv soon.**

**Disclaimer: It makes me really pissed, but tragically I do not own SVU or the TDK Trilogy. They would both be even more awesome than they currently are ;)**

Chapter 7: Knowledge

Sitting behind the wheel of his unmarked police cruiser, Sgt. Elliot Stabler leaned back, contemplating the events of that night. Just this morning the Narrows Rapist had struck again, claiming his fifth victim in two weeks. Tonight, he was assigned to patrol the area in case they spotted something, for this guy loved to strike twice in quick succession. His shift was over and they came up with zilch yet again. It was fucking frustrating; Elliot felt like beating the shit out of something, but restrained himself. "What's the goddamn point," he yelled inside the empty car, more to himself than anyone else. The life of an honest cop in Gotham City was always frustrating, and he was used to it by now.

Looking outside, he watched as Brian Cassidy, who the Captain had assigned him for tonight's stakeout, argued with the owner of a local bodega where they had stopped. He seemed pretty pissed, but after Cassidy flashed his badge a couple of times the owner forked over a billfold. Cassidy smirked and helped himself to something from the counter. Elliot rolled his eyes. "I missed dinner with my family and quality time with my kids to sit around and watch Cassidy muscle hard-working businessmen?" For a Gotham City cop, that was a common occurrence, and unlike Olivia (Elliot wished she was here instead of that smug asshole), Elliot knew that there was nothing he could do about it, much as he wanted to.

Opening the driver's side door, Cassidy slid his way inside the cruiser. "Thanks for keeping the car warm Elliot. This piece of shit doesn't hold the air in like my BMW."

"No problem Cassidy," mumbled Elliot, not giving the idiot the satisfaction of using his first name.

Unsurprisingly the other detective took out a comb from his pocket and began fixing his hair. "El, sometimes you are hard to figure out."

Elliot's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?" he growled, trying to keep cool.

Squeezing a tube of expensive hair gel he probably didn't pay for, Cassidy looked him in the eye, "Yeh. Look at you; four kids, one of them you had at what, nineteen? A small ass apartment on West 47th street not big enough for you. A wife dying for something more than thrift store hand-me-downs and Walmart dresses. What I want to know is how do you live on a policeman's salary alone when the entire fucking city is ripe for the picking?"

Taking a deep breath, Elliot was thankful Cassidy didn't make another wise-ass comment about Olivia's ass; she was like a little sister to him, and every time the other detective made a comment he felt like kicking the shit out of him. "I'm fine with the current financial situation and so is Kathy."

"Come on," said Cassidy in a fake pleading voice, unwrapping a crunch bar and biting a chunk out of it. With bits of spit-covered chocolate flicking out of his mouth, he held up a wad of twenties. "Have a taste why don't you? Someday man, you'll realize what you're missing and save your family some heartbreak. Remember, soon little Maureen will need a prom dress or some shit like that, and you'll be kicking yourself for blowing off your old friend Brian. You need to get wise."

"There's nothing wise in what you do Cassidy. Haven't you heard of the phrase 'Reap what you sow,' or 'What goes around comes around?'"

"I expect that idealistic jizz coming from your fine-ass partner but you El? We've known each other for nearly a decade. You know I got your back, but my friends?" said Cassidy with a concerning look that Elliot knew was bullshit. "When they hear that you don't take the taste, makes them nervous."

That was the last straw for him. "I'm no rat Cassidy!" Elliot spat, who like every cop hated those who tattled to IAB. Cassidy rolled his eyes, not especially worried about his colleague's idealism. Sensing Cassidy's smugness, Elliot groaned, "In a town this bent, what's the use? It's not like there's anyone to rat to."

Cassidy chortled a mucus filled laugh from the back of his throat. "You were always a smart one El my boy. Your partner, she may be fuckable but she ain't got your brain." He was in too good a mood to notice Elliot's homicidal glare.

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High above the 1-6 precinct, gazing at the impressive Gotham City skyline, Bruce donned a black baklava, fitting it perfectly so that everything but his eyes and mouth were covered up. Since his full suit wasn't yet ready, and it wasn't the right time for his new persona's grand unveiling to the city, all he wore tonight was rappelling gear and his all black armor, making him look like a high-tech burglar from the future. It wasn't the best approach for infiltrating a police station, but it would do.

Meanwhile, on the ground floor of the precinct, Elliot walked inside, finally able to get away from Cassidy and his annoying personality. "Evening El," called a voice behind him as he was halfway to the elevator.

"Hey Liv," Elliot responded, happy to see the only person in the whole precinct whom he considered a friend. As she trotted beside him, arms filled with paperwork, a question popped in his head. "Why are you still here? Didn't the Cap give you tonight off?"

Olivia shook her head, her dark, bob cut hair swaying with it. "Yeh, but I want to get these DD5's finished and filed away in the basement before I go home. Besides, shouldn't you be the one to get home? Kathy should be worried sick by now, and I'm sure you miss the kids."

"More than you know, but with the fucking Narrows Rapist going around, I want to review some evidence, see if we missed anything the last times we went over it. Kathy will understand. The kids will be bummed, but they should be old enough to get it too."

"You're a lucky man Stabler. Always remember to thank God for your family El."

"I do that every day," he said compassionately, knowing of Olivia's lack of a proper family life. He, Alex, and Kathy tried to fill the void, but love all of them though she did, it didn't take the place of a mother or a husband. He and Kathy had tried to set her up with some people, but they were usually too repulsed or too in to her job to merit a more than a second look. Now that her best friend Bruce Wayne was back, of whom Olivia talked about nonstop since the day she transferred in, Elliot hoped she would feel happier.

"So how was the stakeout?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Ugh!" Elliot rolled his eyes. "It's Cassidy Liv. You shouldn't ask questions you already know the answers to."

Laughing, Olivia pressed both the up and down buttons for the elevator. "It could be worse El. You're not the one he tries to shag every day for the last seven years."

"One of these days, he'll probably go too far and you'll kill him," Elliot said with a smirk as his elevator opened.

Olivia laughed again. "You're right as always Stabler, now go upstairs and call your wife, that's an order."

"Yes mommy," he quipped, the closing elevator preventing Olivia from responding.

Reaching the bullpen, he sat at his desk, turning on the small lamp right of the computer. Picking up the phone, he dialed his home. "Stabler residence," replied a young girl.

"Hi Katie," he responded, happy he could talk to at least one of his kids. His dad instincts kicked into gear. "What are you doing up this late?"

"Come on dad," whined Kathleen, who at thirteen was the middle child of the Stabler clan and daddy's little princess (though she inherited her father's stubbornness as well). "It's Friday! Besides, I wanted to wait for you to come home."

That last phrase melted his heart. "Such a sweetie. Can you put your mom on the line?"

"Sure dad. Mom!" He heard a few clicks and pops before a new voice came on the line.

"Hi Elliot."

"Hey honey," he said to his wife.

"Let me guess, another all-nighter?"

"I'm sorry Kathy," he said, really meaning it. "It's just with this big case going on, I have to stay. I promise, tomorrow afternoon, I'll pick up all the kids from school and we can have a nice family meal, just the six of us; with maybe, a bottle of wine for us two?" he smirked over the phone.

He heard his wife chuckle through the receiver. "You know just how to please a woman don't ya Elliot Stabler."

"One of my many qualities my dear."

"Oh shut up!" she shouted, laughing. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night Kath, and give the kids a kiss good night for me."

"Will do." He heard her hang up. Smiling, he set down the receiver just as the lights in the bullpen started to flicker.

"Don't turn around," growled a voice from behind him, a sharp click echoing through his ears. Elliot, normally a man who struck fear into the hearts of the criminals of the city, was scared shitless. Here he was at his most vulnerable, trapped with no one around to hear him scream. Ne next words out of the mysterious voice's mouth shocked him to his core. "You're a good cop, one of the city's few."

Elliot gulped, unsure of what to say. "What do you want?" he finally croaked.

"Carmine Falcone brings in shipments of drugs every week. Nobody takes him down, why?"

Fear slowly leaching out of his system, Elliot was getting intrigued by this mystery man. "He's paid up with the right people; enough to give him de facto immunity anyways."

"What would it take to bring him down?"

"Catching him at the scene of the crime," Elliot said off the top of his head. "One would also need leverage on Judge Taft, plus an ADA brave enough to prosecute."

"Alex Cabot. Remember that name."

"Got it buddy. Who are you?"

"Watch for my sign Sgt. Stabler."

Elliot's eyes widened in mild surprise. "You're just one man?"

"Now we're two," replied Bruce, removing the tape recorder from Elliot's head and stealthily darting away.

"We?" Hearing no response, he turned and saw the man gone. Pulling out his duty weapon, he called for backup over the police radio clipped to his belt.

At the other end of the floor, Olivia stepped out of the elevator to tell Elliot good night when she almost barreled into a masked man in a black jumpsuit. He stared at her with the most penetrating green eyes she had ever seen before he booked for the window. Olivia pulled her own weapon and glanced upward, seeing him scale the fire escape with agility she had never encountered before.

"You see him Liv?" yelled Elliot as he ran into the corridor.

"Yeh, he's headed to the roof."

"Let's go!" Morphing into Benson and Stabler mode, the two hustled to the stairs. Seeing two uniformed officers reaching the floor, Elliot yelled at them to follow the pair of detectives.

Scrambling up a prepositioned ladder he had set up beforehand, Bruce jumped over the railing and landed on the roof with a thud, the gravel crackling under his boots. Looking in all directions to judge his myriad of escape routes, the door to the roof opened to reveal Elliot and Olivia, guns drawn, emerge.

Knowing there was now only one option, Bruce turned quickly, his back to the two detectives. "Freeze!" shouted Elliot, his Glock 9mm leveled at Bruce, though none of the officers had any idea to his identity.

Using all the lower body strength he possessed, Bruce leaped in the air, landing with a thunk on the air conditioning vents. Pausing for less than a second to recover, he sprinted across the length of the vent, building speed for what he was about to do next.

"No!" shouted Olivia as the masked man seemed to jump from the vent to his death. Rushing over to the ledge, she saw him land on the other building, falling a few flights before getting a firm grip on one of the fire escapes. "That's something you don't see every day," she muttered to herself, mentally adding it to the archive of strange occurrences she had witnessed since joining SVU. After three years in the squad, the list was quite large.

"What the hell was that sir," stammered one of the uniforms.

Elliot, still trying to process what had just transpired, shrugged. "Probably just some nut. My partner and I will handle it from here; go back to your posts gentlemen."

"Yes sir," they both barked in a tone that would have pleased Elliot's old DI back in the Marines. He smiled as well. 'Ah to be a young rookie again, not having to deal with the corruption and political shit I am buried in now.'

"El," he turned to see his partner glaring at him, hands on her hips.

"Yes Liv?"

"Care to elaborate on what in God's name that was?"

"As I told the uniforms, probably just you're garden variety nut. We deal with them all the time Liv."

"Don't give me that bull El!" she spat. "I'm your partner and the only cop in Gotham who's more of a straight arrow than you. If you can't trust me then who can you trust?"

Elliot sighed, for she was right as usual. "I walked into the bullpen and called my wife as you ordered."

He was interrupted by Olivia clapping her hands very loudly. "Glory Hallelujah! It's a miracle. The high and mighty Elliot Stabler listens to someone for a change. Alex owes me fifty bucks."

Laughing ,Elliot silently thanked Olivia for that. With the aggravation of not seeing his family in two nights, the cantankerous sore that was Brian Cassidy, and the adrenaline rush brought on by the chase, he felt relieved to laugh at his partner's silly antics. "As I was saying Liv, I had just hung up when this voice tells me not to move."

"One of Falcone's men most likely."

"No, that's the strange part. All he did was ask about Falcone and how he could take him down. When I mentioned needing an ADA with balls, he dropped Alex's name."

"The creep's right about that, though I know for a fact that Alex is 100% woman," said Olivia with a smirk.

"I don't doubt you Liv."

"Anything else you can tell me about him? You are a detective remember."

Searching his brain for details, he listed them off as they came. "From his tone he was definitely working alone. Had a very deep voice with sort of a slight rasp to it. He was about six feet tall too, plus green eyes."

"Ok, so it could be about a sixth of the men in Gotham. That definitely narrows it down." They both laughed until Olivia started to yawn deeply.

"Go home Liv. Get some rest and come back in the morning."

"Yes dad. I'll get on it right away," she mocked, tapping his shoulder.

"Good night Liv," he called over his shoulder,

"Night El," she responded, entering the stairwell. As she descended, the description Elliot gave her kept playing over and over in her head. 'Six feet; works alone; deep baritone with a slight rasp; obsessed with getting Falcone; knows of Alex and thinks highly of her.' Though that was quite an amount of information, she kept getting drawn back to the piecing green eyes, which were hauntingly familiar. "Could it be?" she whispered to herself. Coming to her senses, Olivia scoffed. "Nah; that's ridiculous. You really do need sleep Liv." She chuckled at her stupidity.

**A/N: So Liv has suspicions. Next up, another visit to Mr. Fox and Liv dropping by Wayne Manor. Bear with me people, the birth of Batman and Liv's part in the whole shebang will be coming soon, trust me. Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: As promised, here's the new update. This'll be a filler chapter, but I assure you the action is coming up.**

**Disclaimer: Since they are not as awesome as they should be, I do not own TDK Trilogy or SVU.**

Chapter 8: Investigations

The elevator dinging to a stop, Bruce began to exit the now open compartment. "Arghh," he grimaced, his ankle still bugging him from last night's "unauthorized visit," to the 1-6 precinct. On the one hand it had been a success; his impromptu interrogation of Stabler had given him some useful data on Falcone and how to stop him. On the other hand, he had run into Olivia, which Bruce had planned on avoiding at all costs. Of all the people he knew, she was the most likely to discover what he had been planning, and for her sake Bruce was determined to keep that from happening. He would have to watch his movements and actions around her, but that couldn't be too hard for one who was initiated in the League of Shadows.

"Good morning Mr. Wayne," called out Lucius Fox, inwardly relieved to have something to do besides catalogue mothballed prototypes.

"And the same to you Mr. Fox," replied Bruce cordially.

Fox leaned forward in his chair, seeing if he could read the mind of his employer. "Let me guess; more spelunking?"

"Nah; today it's base jumping," said Bruce with an engaging smirk.

"Base-jumping? Is that kind of like parachuting?"

"Something like that."

"Are you sure you're up to it, considering your ankle and all?"

Bruce looked somewhat surprised. Fox must have seen him limp slightly. "You don't miss much do you?"

"That's why they pay me the big bucks." He sighed, "Well, used to anyways." He rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment before turning back to his boss. "So, how can I indulge your new extracurricular activity, hmm?"

"Do you have any lightweight fabrics?"

Chuckling, Fox stood up with a twinkle in his eye, motioning for Bruce to follow him. "I think I have just the thing for you Mr. Wayne." He led Bruce to a locked cupboard and punched a code in the keypad. Opening with a hiss, Fox removed a small black case and set it on the cheap plastic table left of the cupboard. "Here ya' go." He draped a black cloth over the tabletop. "It's called memory cloth; notice anything," he said, grinning while donning an odd-looking glove.

"Not especially."

"Regularly flexible, like your ordinary length of fabric, but run an electric current through it." He brought the glove, which was humming with electricity, to the surface of the fabric and it immediately became firm, like an umbrella without the struts. "The molecules have realigned, making it rigid."

Fascinated, his mind racing with ideas of how it could be put to use, Bruce ran a hand on the tensed fabric. "What kind of shapes could you make?"

"It can be tailored to fit any structure with a rigid skeleton."

"No one tried to market it to the Army?"

"Earle deemed it too expensive for them to want, though he didn't think to seek buyers in the billionaire-spelunking-base-jumping crowd. Might have made a nice piece of change too."

Bruce turned to face Fox, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Look Mr. Fox; if any of this is making you uneasy…"

Fox put up a hand, silencing Bruce. "Mr. Wayne; if you don't tell me exactly what you're doing or why you're doing it, when they ask, I won't have to lie." He paused for a moment, letting what he had said sink in, "but don't think of me as an idiot."

Bruce nodded his head, his respect for this man growing. "Fair enough." Catching something interesting in the corner of his eye, Bruce pointed to the right. "What's that?"

Looking to where Bruce had pointed, Fox spotted an all-black armored vehicle with forward pointing front wheels and the overall configuration of a Lamborghini crossed with an M1 Abrams. "Oh the Tumbler you mean. You wouldn't be interested in that sir."

"Try me."

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Rocketing at nearly fifty miles per hour, Bruce piloted the prototype desert-camo Tumbler with surprising skill. The vehicle had the strength and toughness of a Main Battle Tank, but also possessed the grace and maneuverability of one of his several Italian sports cars.

As he put the Tumbler in a tight turn, which it handled effortlessly, Fox crossed himself silently, his heart beating through his chest. 'What have I gotten myself into,' he thought, being both petrified and energized at the same time.

"What was this designed for?" asked Bruce, not breaking his concentration.

"It was designed as a three-seater bridging/riverine assault vehicle. During combat, the two of these would jump across a river, towing cables, while the weapons officer right where I'm sitting blasted away at whatever resistance presented itself. Once across, the combat engineer in the back seat would release the cable, creating a stable platform for the bridge to be made." Readying to turn once more, Fox motioned to the throttle. "Over here, on the left side of the throttle, is the booster rocket, which will boost you into a rampless jump." Bruce, looking like a curious five-year old, thumbed the button. "Not Now!" yelled Fox as the rocket kicked in, boosting the already fast Tumbler to over a hundred miles per hour, all in the confined spaces of the Wayne Enterprises testing track deep underground.

"Not now sir, not now!" yelled Fox again, disengaging the afterburner while Bruce guided the vehicle into another graceful turn. Bruce grinned while Fox laughed nervously. "Never did get the damn bridge to work, but this puppy works just fine. We tried to market it as an assault vehicle only, but the Army felt it was too damn expensive, though I have a feeling it isn't too expensive for a certain billionaire base-jumper."

Too concentrated on his newest toy, Bruce maneuvered the Tumbler to a stop, the breaking systems working flawlessly. "Phew," he gasped, grinning like a teenager driving his first car.

Fox was grinning too, for this had been the most excitement he had since getting exiled here. "So Mr. Wayne, what da' ya' think?"

Bruce turned his head slowly to Fox, his grin replaced by a smirk. "Does it come in black?"

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Carmine Falcone edged a drink across the lacquered table over to his guest. "Sorry to disturb you from you official duties, but I'll need you at the docks Tuesday night."

Taking the drink and sipping calmly, Brian Cassidy eyed his under the counter employer. "Is there a problem?"

"Nah, just a precaution. I don't want any trouble with the last shipment."

"Sure, sure." Cassidy sighed, for he had plans for that night; the two thousand he'd be getting would more than make up for it though. 'Who knows; might even be able to get myself a Hummer to go with my BMW.' "So boss," he smirked, "Word on the street is you got a beef with someone in the DA's office, and that there's a fat prize waiting for someone with the balls to see that it goes away."

"Is that right? So what's your point Detective Cassidy?"

"Have you seen that chick?" asked Cassidy, letting out a cat-like mrreww. "Don't you think, since this is a cute little ADA we're talking about, that it's a little too much heat to bring down at this point. After all," he stated, leaning back into the imported French armchair, "This is your last shipment. Even for this town it's a big risk."

Falcone waved him off. "Never underestimate Gotham City Cass. People get mugged coming home from work every day of the week. As they say, shit happens."

"That is true boss," said Cassidy, laughing with Falcone. Neither of them could have possibly noticed Bruce Wayne listening in on their conversation from afar. With the latest wiretapping gear Mr. Fox could provide, there was no way to.

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"It's just like I remembered," Olivia whispered to herself. Since her mother had forced her to leave at age eight, the only time in the following 21 years she had been to Wayne Manor was the fateful day of Skinner's parole hearing and Bruce's disappearance, which despite his return still hurt.

Guiding the police issue sedan underneath the tree-lined driveway, Olivia began to reminisce about her childhood here at the Manor. She sighed, for in her entire wretched life the time she spent growing up with Bruce and Alex was the only time she was ever happy. Noticing a tear falling from her cheek, she composed herself and stepped out of the sedan, striding toward the large oaken front doors.

"Coming, coming!" shouted Alfred, confused as to who would want to come here unannounced. Since Bruce returned it had just been the two of them, and Master Bruce didn't want visitors for obvious reasons. Unlocking the front door, the sight of this particular visitor took made his heart skip a beat. "Miss Olivia."

Olivia beamed at him. "Hi Uncle Alfred," she said, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug. "It's been too long."

"Yes it has," he replied, hugging her back. "So dear," he asked as they broke apart, "What brings you here from Gotham proper. It's not police business I hope." He raised an eyebrow.

Laughing, Olivia shook her head. "No Uncle Alfred, nothing like that! I was just feeling lonely and wondered if Bruce would like a dinner companion."

"I think that's exactly what Master Bruce needs. Ever since he got back he's been stressing out over readjusting to society. A lovely dinner companion such as you would be most welcome."

She gave him another warm smile; not knowing her rapist of a father, for the early years of her life Alfred had filled that void. She glanced to either side of her. "Speaking of which, where is the reclusive Billionaire?"

"Master Wayne has decided to get some air, but he will be back shortly. Why don't you refamiliarize yourself with the place while I finish supper? I'm making lasagna."

Olivia's mouth watered at the mere thought. "My favorite!" Alfred smiled and headed for the kitchen, his posture as erect as always. Looking around, Olivia noticed the place was almost exactly like it was when she left. The various artworks and pieces of furniture seemed untouched by the passage of time, probably owing to Alfred's diligence and the lack of use over the years. It was a shame really, for the house truly was beautiful. "Bruce could use a party like Master Thomas used to throw. It would liven up the place," she remarked to herself as she ascended the main staircase.

The upstairs was a little more lived in than the foyer. The curtains were pulled back to let in the afternoon light, probably Alfred's doing, which gave it a sort of cheerful glow missing in the rest of the house. Olivia wandered around the hallway, her mind flashing back to the memories of her childhood. Each room held certain memories (she had even been born in the manor, her mother being confined to bed for the last month of her pregnancy). It felt comforting to revisit the last place she had been truly happy and carefree before Thomas' death had it ripped from her. Thomas Wayne and this house had been the only refuge she had from her abusive mother, and when Skinner took both away Olivia had nowhere to turn. Alone among those close to Bruce (with the exception of Alfred), Olivia knew what the pain losing his parents did to him, because she shared it as well.

Wondering what time it was, Olivia lifted her hand to check her watch. "Damn! Forgot to change the battery again!" With the stress of being a detective, and an SVU detective at that, doing simple household chores like changing a watch battery fell by the wayside. Often times, all she did at her apartment was sleep and throw away the plethora of takeout containers littering her kitchen. Deciding that she had to know the time, Olivia ducked into the study.

Searching for the clock, she finally found it, a large digital one with big red numbers displaying the time. "6:12 PM. What could Bruce be doing to keep him out this late?" Olivia chuckled to herself. "Maybe he's trying to break into another precinct." She still made fun of herself for thinking Bruce a suspect, if only for a second. The idea was too ridiculous even for the likes Commissioner Munch (who believed the CIA had assassination squads out to get him), let alone Badass Benson.

Her eyes absentmindedly drifted toward the large teak desk that had once been Thomas Wayne's. "Hmm, that's odd." She picked up a piece of tracing paper, on which had been drawn a crude schematic of some kind of helmet or mask. It looked like something a SWAT Team officer or Army Special Forces would wear, but at the same time wasn't. Try as she did, Olivia couldn't decipher the two horns projecting out of the top. Even for a detective of her skill, it was too enigmatic to piece together. "What would Bruce want with something like this?"

Wandering around to sort this puzzle out, Olivia inattentively tapped three keys on the Baby Grand Piano by the bookcases. A loud popping sound made her yelp, her head swiveling in the direction of the sound, right hand drifting to her gun. Advancing slowly, she saw one of the bookcases open. "Whew!" she breathed a sigh of relief. It was only natural that a house as old as Wayne Manor had a secret passageway, or so went the old cliché propagated by Scooby Doo cartoons and Nancy Drew novels.

Not wanting Bruce or Alfred to think she was snooping, Olivia closed the bookcase door and put the mysterious helmet drawing back where she found it. Satisfied that everything was in order, she spun around and reentered the hallway.

After about five minutes looking out the window at the sunset, Olivia heard footsteps in the direction of the staircase. "Liv?"

She turned and saw Bruce looking at her, dressed in a battered hoodie and jeans. "Casual much?" she asked, snickering at her friend's odd attire.

Shrugging sheepishly, he walked over to her and gave her a friendly hug. "Alfred told me to tell you that dinner's ready." He raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing here?"

"My Captain gave me the night off since Elliot and I caught the Narrows Rapist, so I thought you could use the friendly company."

"That's sweet, especially coming from Badass Benson." The look she gave him could normally force serial killers to a weepy mess, but on Bruce it merely caused him to laugh. "Come on," he said, putting his arm in a loop. "Let's head down."

Chuckling herself, Olivia took him up on his offer. "What a gentleman," she told him as they headed for the dining room.

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Since his quiet dinner with Olivia four days before, Bruce had spent his time putting final touches on his equipment. Finishing the last of his custom made throwing knives, he flicked one at one of the wooden beams holding up the southeast wing. "Shit!" he grumbled, seeing it hit about two inches from the center.

"I think that was a pretty good shot sir," remarked Alfred in his usual dry tone, setting a tray of iced tea on Bruce's workbench.

"Not good enough for me Alfred. With what I'm planning, we have no room for error."

"We sir?" quipped the butler, earning a glare from his ward. "Well, joking aside, the armor seems up to specifications, except for the helmet of course."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Let me show you Master Bruce." Walking over to a chest, Alfred hefted a baseball bat (which looked comical held by someone in full evening wear), and brought it down heavily on one of the stock models, which shattered. "Problem with the graphite sir; I advise you not to land on your head. The good news is the next ten thousand will be up to specifications."

Bruce sniggered. 'Damn Alfred and that dry wit of his!' Of all the people in his life, the only ones who could always make him laugh were Alfred and Olivia; even Alex couldn't. "Well Alfred, at least they gave us a discount."

"Quite so sir." Bruce sat back down, sipping a glass of iced tea, for he had a lot of time to kill until the night predators came out to play. "If you don't mind my asking sir, why bats Master Wayne?"

Bruce noticed that he had been unknowingly playing with a second throwing knife, smelted into the shape of a bat. "Bats terrify me Alfred." The butler nodded, remembering the day his ward fell in the abandoned well. "It's time my enemies share my dread." Alfred gave a slight smile.

Glancing back at the beam, Bruce aimed carefully and chucked the knife at the exact same spot. Watching it hit dead center, he smiled as well. 'I am ready.'

**A/N: First of all, I find it very easy to imagine Cassidy as a dirty cop who acts like a complete ass. But enough laughs aside, the Batsuit is ready and Olivia unknowingly gets closer to the truth. I made a few design changes to the Tumbler which will make sense later. Stay tuned. The big confrontation is next!**

**Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Here we go, the moment before the moment all of you have been waiting for. A fateful Tuesday night at the docks that will send shockwaves throughout Gotham City. It's a bit long, but I have a lot to cover. Enjoy and review!**

**This is for thejokersbrother for his awesome reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I pray that it isn't so, but I do not own TDK Trilogy or SVU.**

Chapter 9: Batman

"_You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time. Well you ain't never caught a rabbit, and you ain't no friend of mine!"_ The cool night air blowing into his face, Brian Cassidy mouthed the lyrics of the Elvis Presley CD he always kept in the radio. Fancying that he resembled the King in every way (only better), it was only fitting that he played his songs as well.

"Ah, pier twenty-one." He pulled into the driveway, which aside from the usual collection of street bums was deserted. Braking, he shifted into park and stepped out of the car, dressed head to toe in a $50,000 Armani suit and crocodile skin shoes, bought and paid for courtesy of Mr. Carmine Falcone. As he did every time, Cassidy patted the hood of his most prized possession, his Silver BMW Z3 Roadster. Women might be his vice (he was determined one day to add Benson to his list of conquests), but his car was his baby.

"Nice car," exclaimed a bum off to the left, standing around a trashcan/campfire.

A snarl on his face, Cassidy approached the vagrant, gun drawn. "If you as much as get within ten feet of it, I'll redecorate the warehouse walls with your brains motherfucker!"

"Ok man, Ok," replied the bum, holding his hands up in defeat. As Cassidy stormed off fuming, the bum slowly shook his head, "At least the guy with the coat was nice," he whispered to himself, patting his seven year old tweed dinner jacket, which aside from a few splotches here and there he had kept it in good condition.

Sauntering over to the large warehouse, Cassidy noticed a group of teamsters loading part of the shipment into the trucks. Smirking, he decided to have a little fun with them. He whistled, "Hey assholes! What you doin'?"

The head teamster glanced in Cassidy's direction. "Fuck you," he spat dismissively.

This was what Cassidy was waiting for; taking out his badge, he bit down on his tongue to suppress a guffaw, for all the teamsters looked like they were about to wet themselves. He bent over to inspect the cargo. "What is this?" he asked the still white-faced teamsters, lifting a stuffed bear, a packet of cocaine hidden inside. When the head guy started to stutter, Cassidy let out his suppressed laugh. "Don't just stand there like idiots! Get back to work, before I Rodney King your asses." Chuckling, he walked away.

Meanwhile, inside the warehouse, Falcone was being given a peek at the merchandise. "So are all the packages accounted for?"

"Yes Boss," replied Randolph Morrow, the accountant and money launderer for the Falcone crime family. Normally, he wouldn't be anywhere near such a rotten dump like this (he was the kind of man who liked everything in his life to be properly structured and organized), but with the more "hands-on" accountant locked up at Arkham, Falcone had insisted he come along.

"Did we get the payment from Huang and his employer?"

"Yes sir. The deposits were funneled from an account in Switzerland to yours in the Cayman Islands. My firm is, as we speak, cleaning the deposits for you through special investments, mostly out of state ones."

"Good, good," muttered Falcone, not really caring after the fact the money came in. His mind was on something else entirely. "What about the uh, special shipment?"

"It has arrived sir, and is waiting for you by the entrance."

He licked his lips in anticipation. "Let's go then," he growled, hurrying with a spring in his step.

The special shipment was waiting for him in a cage. "Here you go sir, fresh from Honduras," declared the guard, one of his most loyal soldiers. Rudy may have broken up Gotti and the others back in New York, but here in Gotham, _Omerta_ was still the unofficial law of the land.

His breath quickening with desire, Falcone skimmed the bars of the cage with his fingers. "Very nice, very nice indeed." The five girls, all but one sedated (although no one noticed one of them was lucid), looked roughed up but beautiful in their own unique way. Morrow rolled his eyes in disgust. Little girls weren't his thing, although like most of Falcone's inner circle, he did have one. The underboss, Sal Maroni, made vague references about purging the Family of these perverts, but since the boss himself was one, they never got any farther than that.

"Heads up boss; Detective Elvis is here."

Falcone turned his head away from the girls to see Cassidy stroll in, looking as ridiculous as always. "Send them to my residence after the rest of the main shipment is loaded up." He motioned for Cassidy to get in his limo, to which the detective complied.

"Looks fine out there boss," said Cassidy once the doors were closed. "So the bears go straight to the dealers?"

"Yep, but the bunnies go somewhere else, to a man in the Narrows."

"What's the difference?"

"A word of advice Cass, don't burden yourself with the secrets of scary people. Ignorance is bliss in this business"

Back at the warehouse, the teamster crew was finishing loading the last of the stuffed animals/drugs. "Erskines!" bellowed the head teamster, "Get the last box out of the crate, and make it snappy!"

Cursing under his breath, Erskines did as he was told. While the union at his regular job would have crucified a manager like that, he was getting paid three times his salary here, so he would keep his big bazoo shut. Strolling over to the nearly empty crate, whistling an old Rolling Stones song, he reached in to grab a box.

The other teamsters were continuing with their work when they heard a loud scream. "Erskines?" hollered the head teamster, motioning for his two workers to follow him. Staring into the warehouse, the open shipping container stared back at them, pitch black as the night sky. "Erskines?" he repeated, his pulse quickening with fear. Just before they reached the opening, the lights gave out, busted by a piece of metal that landed by the head teamster's feet. Stooping down, he picked it up.

"What is it?" asked one of the workers.

"Looks like some sort of bat. What da' you think Steiss?" The other man simply pointed upward. Looking too, the head teamster saw a black specter just before it descended upon him.

Hearing the blood-curdling screams, Maria Recinos huddled in her cage. Taken out of Honduras by a friend of her family, he had subsequently sold her to the bad men, who now guarded her. They had beaten her and fondled her, while she had just sat there, crying her eyes out. She missed her mommy and daddy, and wanted nothing more than to go back to them. Opening one eye, she noticed they were not paying attention to her, but looking around the shipping containers, brandishing guns. 'Please Jesus,' she prayed, 'Let this be a savior.'

The mob guards were annoyed at this latest development, for what idiot dared to challenge the might of the Falcone crime family? Another scream was followed with a shadow off to the right. Jerking up his Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun, one guard loosed off a long burst in the direction of the sound, causing the annoyance to turn to fear. "Spread out," stammered Morrow, who was close to shitting himself. 'It's supposed to be the woman who is feeling fear, not me!'

Hearing the gunshots, Cassidy opened the door of the limo. "Better check it out," he told Falcone, stepping outside. What he saw inside the warehouse chilled him to the core. Screams and cries echoed through the warehouse, with random pistol shots punctuating the resulting silence. He ducked back in the limo. "There's a problem out here; you better bail," he told Falcone, then hurried over to his car. "He paid me to protect his shipment from the department; I am not risking my baby for this shit!" He patted the hood of his car and jumped in, speeding away.

The last of the elite mob guards standing, Dominic Andretti kept his MP-5 at the ready, set to full auto. If anything got within fifteen feet of him, he'd blast a ten round burst into its belly. Hearing a sound, he fired a long burst, only to be followed by a shadow streaking by a container behind him. This also merited a burst, which did absolutely nothing. He snarled in frustration. "Where are you!" Dominic shouted.

"Here." He turned around and was enveloped. The warehouse echoed with his screams.

Having enough, Falcone left the limo and walked into the warehouse. "What the hell is going on?" he barked, looking straight at Morrow.

"I, uh, you see sir, there was a, uh…" The money launderer got no further than that, for at that moment a large man in black swooped in and quickly went to work on the mafia goons (the elite guards having been dispatched). Watching both in horror and fascination, Falcone witnessed this specter take down nearly half a dozen men. Scared out of his wits for the first time since childhood, he ran back to the limo.

Maria looked at the devil as the last bad man fell to the ground. He was the near embodiment of evil, nearly all black with the horns of the Antichrist on his head. Looking at a cowering man on the ground, the devil advanced on him. "Please, no, I'll give you anything you want!" The devil knocked him out and cuffed him to the cage. Hearing Maria's whimper, he looked straight at her. Maria gasped, for the devil's eyes were the most calming shade of green she had ever seen. This wasn't a devil; this was an angel, an angel sent by the ever-loving Jesus to save her.

"Don't worry sweetheart, everything will be alright," and with that, he disappeared.

His pudgy frame covered in sweat, Carmine Falcone practically dived into the limo. "Step on it!" he yelled, only to notice the driver was knocked out. "Mother of fuck, mother of fuck," he kept muttering, reaching for a box under the seat. Pulling out a double barreled shotgun, he chambered two rounds, shaking uncontrollably. "What the hell are you?"

Out of nowhere, a hand smashed through the limo's sunroof, hauling Falcone by his collar straight into the eyes of his assailant. "I'm Batman!" he growled, knocking Falcone out with a head but.

Bruce surveyed the scene before him, before settling on a bum eating out of a can in the corner. Realizing it was the same bum he had seen seven years prior, he whistled. The bum looked up and gasped. "Hey," Bruce growled.

"Hey."

"Nice coat." With that, he leapt up, taking Falcone with him.

"Thanks," whispered the bum, still unsure of what he had seen.

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"This is the life Elliot. I'm glad we were able to do this tonight."

Elliot leaned across the booth, giving his wife a deep, passionate kiss. "Me too. We don't get many nights with just the two of us, no job, no kids."

His wife kissed him back, thoroughly happy at this moment. After getting his first full day off in weeks, Elliot had surprised her with a romantic dinner for two at one of Gotham's finest Italian restaurants; dropping off the kids at her sister's place, they had spent the last two hours eating delicious food, sipping the finest wine, and dancing underneath the night sky in the open air ballroom. Kathy looked into her husband's eyes, seeing them serene, a rarity for him. Between the stress of the job and the stress of providing for their kids, she didn't get to see that side of Elliot Stabler very often. Now that she did, it was magical. "Anyway Elliot, my sister said she could keep the kids over tonight," she whispered, smiling suggestively.

He gave her one of his trademark cocky grins. "Oh? What could we possibly do with all that free time?" Just as their lips were about to join, Elliot's phone started buzzing. "Aw hell!" he snarled, picking up the infernal device. "Stabler," he spat. "Cap, now's not a good time… what? Really?... is this a joke?... Motherfucker!... no, I'll be right over." He flipped the phone off, looking apologetically at his wife. "Sorry Kath."

Kathy sighed, "It's all right Elliot, go. I'll take a cab. You can make it up to me later." He laughed and gave her one more passionate kiss before hurrying out of the restaurant to his car.

"Holy shit!" he whispered to himself. Taking out his phone, he placed another call.

"Benson."

"Liv, it's El; meet me at pier twenty-one at the docks."

"El, it's our night off. I just got comfortable at home."

"Believe me Liv, so was I, but you're gonna' want to see this!"

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After a grueling day in court, Alex Cabot sat on one of the trains making up the Gotham Elevated Rail System. Like the rest of non-gentrified Gotham, the train was covered in a layer of grime and graffiti, not at all usable to civilized society. However, it was the quickest way to her apartment, and Alex Cabot wasn't the type to shy away from a challenge.

"All stop for the 25th Street Station," blared the conductor's voice over the intercom. This being her stop, Alex rose, grabbed her coat and briefcase off the plastic seat and walked out the automatic sliding door.

Knowing how late at night it was, and the stubborn fact that she lived in Gotham City, Alex always kept a close eye on her surroundings. As an ADA whose cousin was a Special Victims detective, she knew the consequences of being less than vigilant. Because of this, she noticed the shabbily dressed, six-foot tall man rush out of the train and follow her across the platform. Inconspicuously, she dug in her purse and transferred something into her pocket for better access.

Trotting down the stairs that led to the street, she encountered another thug, this one even taller and more muscular than the other. "Excuse me," she said politely, trying to slide past him. The thug grabbed her roughly, throwing her back several steps. Thankful she was wearing running shoes and not the high heels that were usually standard courtroom attire, Alex recovered her balance almost instantaneously. Sensing the first thug behind her, she whirled round, hitting him square in the jaw with her purse. The second thug made a step forward, a stupid leer on his face. Pulling her Taser out of her pocket, Alex yelled, "Hold it!" The thug's eyes went wide for a split second before he rushed out, stumbling over himself. Alex smirked, "That's right; you better run!" She turned around and let out a startled yelp.

The first thug was unconscious, his body sprawled out on the floor. Above him, perched on the railing, crouched a mysterious man dressed in all black. Alex fired the Taser, but the electric currents simply fizzled on the man's black armor. She stepped back, silently praying that she hadn't walked out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The man, who kind of looked like a bat with the twin-horned helmet and cape, pulled off the electrodes and looked straight at Alex. "Falcone sent them to kill you," he said in a hoarse growl.

Her mind racing with confused thoughts, Alex could only stammer, "Why?"

"You rattled his cage." The mysterious man through a half dozen photos on the ground.

"What's this?" she asked, never breaking eye contact with the bat man.

"Leverage."

"For what?"

"To get things moving."

"Who are you?"

The bat man hesitated for a moment. "Someone like you. Someone who isn't afraid to rattle their cage. Someone who will."

Alex stooped down to pick them up, noticed they were all of Judge Taft and underage girls. Looking back to where the bat man was, he had disappeared. Making sure she was alone, Alex tucked the photos into her purse and walked out of the station. "Just when I think I've seen everything, Gotham City sends something new. What could possibly go wrong here?" Just as everything was in Gotham, there were no easy answers.

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Stepping out of her police issue sedan, Olivia spotted Elliot in the throng of people and press. "El, what could be this important to get us here on our days off? I know you and Kathy were having a romantic evening out, so what gives?"

Elliot, normally dour and fierce, was giving her the cocky Stabler grin, usually not a look seen while at work. "Look at them," he gestured, pointing at a group of thugs cuffed and watched over by a group of uniforms.

Her eyes widened, "Falcone's men?"

"Yep; busted a whole drug and sex trafficking ring. Got the dope and the girls all in one big package."

"While saving any victim is a triumph El, why did you have to call me down here? You know we won't be able to tie Falcone to this anyway."

"I won't be so sure about that Olivia." Olivia turned to see Detective Lenny Briscoe, her counterpart in Organized Crime. "I know old Stabler here will want to jerk you around some more, so I figured I'd show you now."

"Hey," said Elliot, shooting Briscoe a glare. "I resent that insult!"

"It's not an insult El if it's true," replied Olivia, chuckling. When she saw what Elliot and Briscoe were talking about, her jaw dropped. She turned to her partner, "Is that…"

"Yes Liv it is. Carmine Falcone in the flesh. We also got Randolph "the Whip" Morrow, but this is the big catch." Falcone was tied to a searchlight, strung up with his clothes shaped like wings. "I still can't understand what that is though?" Olivia turned to where Elliot was pointing only to see a large blotch in the sky caused by the light and Falcone's shadow.

"Could be a bird, or a spinning top?" rattled Olivia off the top of her head.

"Or a bat," mentioned Briscoe. Both Elliot and Olivia looked at him questioningly. "I talked to a bum who witnessed the whole thing; said he saw some guy dressed up like a bat do, uh, this," he gestured to Falcone.

"A guy dressed like a bat? Really?" Elliot asked, a smirk growing on his face.

"Yes Stabler, a bat, with the pointed horns on the helmet and everything. Said his name was 'Batman.' Heh, how original."

A ball of ice started to form in the pit of Olivia's gut. 'Helmet with horns. No it can't possibly be. Could it?'

"Sorry to interrupt Sergeant, detectives," piped a young uniform, who had a close cropped beard and scraggly ponytail. "But we have a second witness, one of the young girls."

"I'll take this one guys," Olivia blurted, wanting to get the facts before the rest of her colleagues did.

"Ok Liv," said Elliot, knowing her level of compassion for the victims.

"So what do we got?" asked Olivia, hiding her pounding heart from the others.

"Young girl, Hispanic; won't talk except saying an Angel saved her. Can I ask you something Detective, uh…"

"Benson, and go ahead."

"Officer Tutuola ma'am. How could people do this to the little kids? It's sick!"

"We all ask ourselves that question Tutuola, and there's no one answer. We just do our job to the best of our abilities, and pray to God that it's enough."

"Yes ma'am."

They stopped in front of a cage, where a group of paramedics were taking several young girls away on stretchers. A female paramedic was tending to the conscious one when Olivia stepped in. "Excuse me. Hi," she said, giving a loving smile. "I'm Olivia, what's your name?"

"Maria," she whispered, seeing nothing but compassion in the woman's dark, chocolate colored eyes.

"Ok Maria; can you tell me what happened?"

"My _papa_, he gave me to one of his _amigos_ to watch, who ended up giving me to the bad men."

"Who are the bad men sweetie?" Maria didn't respond, but instead pointed to where Falcone's goons were being held. "Ok, now how did you escape?"

She looked up at the night sky, as if gazing at Heaven. "I prayed to Jesus, and he sent an Angel."

"An Angel?" Olivia furrowed her brow, hoping that this would contradict the bum's story. "What did this Angel look like?"

"He didn't look like one. He looked like the Devil, all black with two pointy horns coming out of his head."

'No! Please no! It can't be him, it just can't be.' Olivia nodded, trying with all her might to keep her horror under control. "If he looked like a Devil honey, then how did you know he was an Angel?"

"His eyes, he looked at me with them, and I knew he was an Angel sent by Jesus."

"What color were the eyes?" she asked, barely holding it together.

"Green." There it was, what she had been hoping wasn't the truth.

"Thank you Maria. Be a good girl for the paramedics. They are going to get you nice and clean. I'll see you soon." She stood and practically ran to Elliot and Briscoe. "Listen El, it looks like you and Lenny have things wrapped up here. I'm going home to get a few hours' sleep and I'll meet you tomorrow at the precinct."

"Ok Liv, just be ready when the shit hits the fan tomorrow."

"Always am Stabler," she smirked halfheartedly, getting in her sedan and driving away from the pier. Inside, she was shaking, for she knew who the "Batman" was. The eyes gave him away, she should have known that from the start. "It's Bruce."

**A/N: Phew! That was a long one! So Liv knows! Cue the music from Jaws!**

**Notice I put several minor characters from SVU in there, just as a wink to all the fans out there; )**

**Next up, a little chat between Bruce and Olivia, the moment all of you have been waiting for.**

**PS: Remember Cassidy's car.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Good day to all of you, and welcome to chapter 10, where things really get interesting. Bruce has become the Batman, and Olivia knows. Things are going to heat up.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own either story arc, but if I did, you'd know.**

Chapter 10: Partner

"Back from your little excursion sir?" asked Alfred as he watched Bruce enter the cavern through the old well entrance. "I heard on the late night news that a certain vigilante took out an entire drug and sex trafficking warehouse at the docks tonight."

"Yes Alfred," he replied, taking off his mask and stepping up to the computer he had installed. "It was rather easy to take those swine out, but that's only because they had no idea what was coming."

"Exactly sir, you won't have the moment of surprise later on, and the criminals won't stay ignorant for long."

"I'll worry about that later. Right now we have bigger problems." He hit several keys on the computer, bringing up several security camera images. "Falcone's bringing in drug shipments alright, but from what I gathered, some are going to one dealer, while some are going to another."

"From what I gather from the police and barrister programs, isn't selling to more than one dealer normal for a drug kingpin like Falcone?"

"Kingpins never go to the dealers, the dealers come to them. So why is it that Falcone is taking the trouble to haul half his shipment to an alternate site?" Bruce asked, adding several recorded conversations into the computer's hard drive. He wished he had gotten whatever Falcone said to Cassidy in the limo, but that was beyond even the Batman's reach, for now at least.

"Well sir, I believe Batman will figure it out eventually. For now though, Bruce Wayne needs some nourishment. I'm heading to the kitchen."

Bruce looked back at his butler. "You never stop looking out for me Alfred?"

Alfred smiled, "Never." With that, he turned and walked toward the elevator. Bruce smiled as well and continued to ponder the riddle involving the diverted shipments.

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Out in the intersection between the main road and the driveway to Wayne Manor, Olivia sat in her GPD issue sedan, silent. She had been waiting for nearly two hours since leaving the crime scene at the docks, and seemed to be paralyzed by the emotions running through her head. "It was Bruce," she whispered, breaking the still air within the car. "It was Bruce. There's a vigilante running around the city in a Bat costume and it's Bruce. Bruce Wayne, my best friend." These same thoughts had been spinning in her mind for the entire time she had been sitting here. No matter how hard she thought or how many scenarios she played out in her head, for the first time since that night on the park bench eleven years before, Olivia S. Benson had no idea of what to do. It both angered and terrified her.

The sudden buzzing of her phone jarred Olivia out of her thoughts. "Not now Elliot," she muttered, thinking he was calling about the Falcone case. Yanking it out of her pocket, she noticed the caller ID declaring it wasn't Elliot, but her cousin Alex. "Alex?" she answered, pressing talk.

"Liv, did you see the news? They got Falcone!"

"Yeh Alex, I was there. It was really weird too."

"Let me guess, there was a guy dressed up like a bat who took down the warehouse."

Olivia was stunned. 'Alex knows too?' "Why would you say that?" she finally stammered.

"Because I saw him Olivia."

That surprised her even more. "You saw the Batman?"

She could hear her cousin chuckle over the phone. "They're calling him Batman now? Seems a bit childish don't you think?"

"I think it fits, nice and direct," she bristled. 'Wait,' she thought, 'Why am I defending Bruce?' "Besides, they aren't calling him that, we found a witness that said he called himself that."

"Makes it even more childish."

"Hold on, why did the Batman come to you?" asked the cop in her.

"Falcone sent some thugs to kill me. This Batman saved me and gave me evidence that Judge Taft has been sleeping with underage girls."

"What?" blurted Olivia, feeling slightly jealous that Bruce went to Alex instead of her. 'Where did that come from?' "You need to send those to me and Elliot ASAP."

"No way Liv. I know that you want to collar him for this, but I need those photos to silence him. If he's thrown in jail for statutory rape, then there will be another judge assigned that Falcone will buy."

"I thought you were a servant of the law Alex!"

"I'm sorry Liv, but I have to think of the big picture here. This is the best chance to get Falcone behind bars for the next hundred years. Please understand."

Olivia sighed, "You're right Alex, I'm just a little irritable right now." 'Which is completely true.'

"Go get some sleep Liv; you'll need all you can get for tomorrow."

"You sound just like Elliot!" exclaimed Olivia, laughing one of those grim laughs used just to relieve tension. "Good night." She sighed and looked at the sky. "God what should I do? Give me guidance."

A sudden wave of anger ripped through her. Olivia picked up her arms and slammed her clenched fists into the steering wheel, letting out a scream. She almost never lost her cool, but now, after finding out her best friend had been lying and keeping secrets from her, not to mention the fact that he could die or be arrested, she did just that. 'I almost lost him once. I can't lose him again. He, Alfred, and Alex are the only family I have!'

Finished beating the shit out of the wheel, Olivia took a deep breath, calming herself. "You can do this Liv. You're Badass Benson after all, a detective in the Gotham Police Department." Calmly, she turned the ignition and made her way toward Wayne Manor, still not sure of what she would say.

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Spreading mustard on a large slice of rye bread, Alfred was startled to hear a loud banging on the front door, loud enough to reverberate throughout the whole mansion. "This can't be good," he muttered to himself as he rushed to the door. "In my experience, nothing good happens after two AM." Still in his gentlemanly demeanor, he unlocked and then opened the door.

"Where is he!" growled a woman's brusque voice, obviously not in a mood to take bullshit from anyone.

"Miss Olivia?" he asked, hoping this wasn't about his ward's little excursion, though if it was thankful it was Olivia.

"Don't give me the ignorant act Alfred. Where is Bruce?"

Alfred gulped, for Olivia only called him that when she was mad. 'This must be how she talks to the criminals. Poor buggers.'

Before he could say anything else, Olivia's eyes widened and she slapped her head with the palm of her hand. "Son of a bitch, the secret door in the study!" With that, she marched upstairs, her footsteps echoing through the manor.

Sighing, Alfred decided it was time to turn in for the night. If he knew Olivia, which he did, poor Master Bruce was in for it. "At least she won't hurt him, that much at least."

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Being a detective, Olivia had a habit of memorizing even the most obscure detail. As Elliot had told her on her first day over three years before, anything might be crucial to solving a case. "How right he was," she said to herself, tapping the exact same keys on the piano as she did four days ago. With a thud and a click, the bookcase opened and Olivia walked in, revealing a surprisingly well lit hallway with an old chain elevator at the end. Stepping inside, she pulled the lever and descended, hopefully to where Bruce was.

Still going over the surveillance photos and taps of the warehouse, Bruce didn't turn when he heard the elevator reach the cavern. "Alfred, come look at this with me. Maybe I'm missing something."

Olivia just stood there, staring at Bruce, his back turned to her. Some part of her had clung to the hope that this was all just some crazy fantasy in her head, but there he was, clad in the outfit of the Batman, the helmet only three feet away on a worktable. Once again her mind was overloaded with thoughts, whether to thank him for finally getting Falcone or try to talk him out of it before he got himself killed or arrested.

"You Bastard!" she finally spat, surprising herself by the amount of venom in her voice.

Wheeling around, his face white with shock, Bruce stared at his best and closest friend, who had somehow stumbled on his entire plan. 'Shit!' he thought, knowing he couldn't deny anything since she had caught him in the actual act. "Hey Liv," he croaked, feeling the need to say something.

Bad idea. "Don't you 'Hey Liv," me Bruce!" she snarled, walking closer to him. "What the hell were you thinking? I thought you changed since I last saw you but nooo!" She purposefully drew out the last word, watching his face grow ever paler. "No; you're the same immature asshole who almost killed Skinner seven years ago!"

Shaking slightly, Bruce had never seen Olivia this angry before, and it shook him to the very core. How was he going to deal with this? "How did you find out?" asked Bruce, desperate to avoid the current topic, knowing that Olivia wasn't up for an explanation right now.

She laughed, but more like a Hyena's laugh than something comedic. "First of all Bruce, I'm a detective. Second of all, you should be more careful of where you keep your helmet schematics; lying out in the open on your desk isn't very private. Thirdly," she gulped, unsure of how to put this. "It was your damn eyes Bruce! When I saw you at the station, and yes I know that was you too, those eyes of yours could see right through me. You're the only person who could do that, not Elliot, not Alex, not even my own drunk of a mother could. Only you, my best friend!"

Bruce stood, shocked to the very fiber of his being. Part of him said that he should have been more careful, that Olivia would have been the only person who could put it together on his/her own. However another part felt relieved that she knew, even if it put her in danger.

"Wow!" he blurted, slightly amazed at her performance. "I never thought I'd see a live demonstration of Badass Benson. If you're this hard on me, I pity the poor suspects."

Olivia was about to tear him a new one when she realized he was sincere. Letting out a sob, she ran too him and gave him a bone crushing hug, her anger fading into concern for her friend. "What were you thinking Bruce? You could have been arrested, or killed." She loosened her grip just enough to stare into his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, realizing at that moment what was bothering her, the fact that Bruce didn't trust her.

Staring back, Bruce felt her dark brown eyes stare back at him, boring straight into his soul, the same as his did to her. "I couldn't do this as Bruce Wayne Liv. I had to protect the ones I love from reprisals. The night I left, Falcone told me how easy it would be for him to kill you, Alfred, and Alex. I couldn't lose you the way I lost my parents. It would kill whatever is left of my soul."

Squeezing him one more time, Olivia broke the embrace and stepped back, still staring into his eyes. "I understand Bruce, and thank you for thinking of me and the others, but I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. It's just…" Feeling exhausted, she collapsed into one of the chairs Bruce used to tinker with his gear. "I know you didn't wake up one morning and say, 'Huh,'" she growled, mimicking his voice. "'I'm going to dress up today as a bat and take down the mob.' No Bruce; that's not you. I've never known you to act impulsively since we were kids. You also didn't learn how to take down Falcone's private army by yourself, and I'm sure Alfred didn't teach you." She smirked involuntarily, which made him chuckle a bit, defusing the tension. "Tell me Bruce, no BS, what happened while you were gone."

Letting out a heavy breath, Bruce sat down as well, never taking his gaze off Olivia. "It's a long story Liv."

She smiled at him. "I have time and besides, being a cop taught me to function without sleep."

Bruce proceeded to tell her everything, his conversation with Alex, his meeting with Falcone, and subsequent decision to go off and learn the ways of the criminal. Olivia sat transfixed through the entire story, looking at her friend with a new respect. 'Bruce hasn't just matured, he's changed completely. He has a true purpose now, one he hadn't had since his parents died.' Hearing the tale of the League of Shadows, and how his mentor trained him to fight like a true warrior, her mind started racing once more. An idea popped up in her head, one which she dismissed as crazy. The more she tried to fight it however, the more and more appealing it became.

"So this Ra's al Ghul," she interrupted him, a little confused, "Wanted you to do what?"

"He wanted me to be an executioner, someone who becomes the same as a criminal in order to destroy one. No matter how angry I was after my parents died, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't become one of them." Casting his eyes downward, he felt a soft hand on his.

"You're a good man Bruce. You always were. What did you do with them? Do I have to be afraid they'll come to Gotham?"

"No, Ra's al Ghul is dead and the League of Shadows is no more. I saved Cragen, but he's all that's left of them. I do thank them though for one thing."

"Which is?"

"Turning into a criminal, even for the greater good, is not justice, but that doesn't mean that we have to embrace injustice either. That is why I became Batman, to provide just enough of a push to make Gotham save itself."

Olivia nodded, and then suddenly remembered something. The day Bruce turned against his mentors was the same day of the Billy Tripley arrest, when she lectured Elliot about the meaning of justice. What had all her years as a cop done for the greater good? The city was even worse than when she signed up, and for every victim that she saved, another was robbed of justice by the corrupt system. Eleven years of playing by the rules had done nothing, while two hours of pushing the envelope changed the entire face of Gotham itself. Deciding what would likely be the most important decision she would ever make, Olivia summoned all her inner strength. "Bruce, I have to ask you something."

Raising an eyebrow, Bruce gave her a confused look. "What?"

'Out with it Benson!' "Let me join you."

His mouth dropped, not expecting that at all. After what seemed to be hours, he collected himself. "No goddamn way Olivia!" roared Bruce. "I will not let you risk your life out there!"

"I'm a cop Bruce," she spat, grateful for his concern but furious at his tone. "I risk my life every fucking day!"

"That's different and you know it! I am just an ordinary citizen, so this is all I can do. You have a job where you can actually make a difference every damn day!"

"Yes Bruce, I do, and what do I have to show for it? Just two weeks ago, a guy rapes and murders four people, torturing them for hours while making their kids watch. He then takes the kids and tortures them, savoring their terrified screams. After we catch him, he's sent not to prison Bruce, but to Arkham, declared mentally unfit for trial. Why, because he worked for Falcone! Imagine that happening every fucking day! You talk about getting justice, but you've never seen it day in and day out! My own mother was raped because she caught one of Falcone's underlings raping the fifteen year old sister of her friend, and she had no justice. You think Skinner makes you the only one to feel the pain of the corrupt system, but you aren't!" The cavern was completely silent, with nothing but the steady rush of water punctuating the din. Olivia stared at Bruce, her breath heavy from the tirade. "Well? Say something!" she barked, to which he just stared back. Seeing a flash of pain in his eyes, Olivia gasped, realizing what she just said. "Bruce, I'm sorry." She leaned forward and hugged him, tears falling off her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's alright Liv," he replied, hugging her back. "You're right though. I can't imagine what you must go through every day. On my journeys, I deliberately avoided such criminals because I didn't have the stomach to handle what you handle. You are a strong woman Olivia, and God knows it would be helpful to have you fighting beside me. It's just that I don't want to put you in harm's way. You, Alfred, and Alex are all that's left for me, the only family I have left. I couldn't bear to lose any one of you."

"You won't Bruce. You forget I'm Badass Benson, the woman who can kick your ass anytime, anywhere." She jabbed a finger in his chest, smirking.

"Oh, I've learned a few tricks since the last time we fought." Seeing his classic Wayne grin made her smile.

"Doesn't matter, I will always kick your ass in the end." She looked at him. "So, what do you say?"

Bruce sighed, making what was bound to be the second most important decision in his life. "Much as I would rather work alone, the only person who I would be comfortable fighting alongside is you Liv. Since the alternative is probably getting arrested," she rolled her eyes at that, "you can join me."

Olivia squealed with glee, hugging him. "Did Badass Benson just squeal?" asked Bruce, a snigger escaping his lips.

Realizing what she did, Olivia's face flushed a bright red. "If you ever tell anyone I did that, I'll kill you in your sleep."

"I believe you. Now about this little arrangement of ours, I have a few conditions."

She bristled, wondering if he'd stick her behind a desk; she'd knee him in the balls if he did say that. "What are they?"

"First of all, this is not a joke. We are dealing with serious people Liv, people who would not hesitate to kill you and enjoy every minute of it."

"Once again Bruce, I am a cop," she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Second, you tell no one about any of this unless you clear by me first and vice versa. Not Alex, not Stabler, no one."

"Ok. Besides me, who knows?"

"Only two people, Alfred and Lucius Fox, an employee of Wayne Enterprises who, uh, supplies me unofficially."

"Got it, what else?"

"Third, since you didn't go through the three years of League of Shadows training that I did, I'm going to have to teach you myself before we fight together."

"You teaching me how to fight?" Olivia's mouth contorted into a mischievous grin. "That'll be fun."

"Lastly," he said, trying not to laugh himself, "I would like it if you kept the current motif."

"You mean the bat one?" At his nod, she continued. "I kind of like it myself. So," she extended her hand. "Partners?"

Bruce looked her in the eye before grasping her hand. "Partners."

**A/N: So there it is. The Batman has a partner. Cue the trumpets.**

**This was fun to write, got it done in less than two hours in one shot. It was interesting to try and capture Bruce and Olivia's personality. Each was shaped by the same general principle, a loss/struggle in early childhood and the feeling of helplessness in the face of a corrupt system. Hope I did it justice.**

**Next up, the aftermath of the appearance of Batman, plus another visit to Mr. Fox and Bruce sees Alex for the first time since getting back.**

**Please Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Last chapter, our two favorite heroes decided to become partners in Bruce's scheme, and now are dealing with the immediate fallout, plus, the return of our favorite conspiracy theorist. This is a long one, but I have a lot of bases to cover.**

**Just a note, since there is the problem of Olivia's training, and the fact that Bruce completely destroyed the League of Shadows' base, I am inserting three weeks into the Batman Begins timeline. I don't think Cragen/Ra's al Ghul could assemble the League of Shadows so quickly after such a disaster. It makes more sense this way, plus fitting with the new story arc.**

**Love it? Hate it? Please review!**

**Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, I don't own it, [insert angry rant here].**

Chapter 11: The Day After

Pulling into the parking lot of the 1-6 precinct, Olivia felt exhausted. After a long, sleepless night at (and underneath) Wayne Manor, she still wore the hastily donned clothes from scrambling to get to the pier when Elliot called last night. Taking a minute to check herself out in the mirror, Olivia noticed she had bags under her eyes, her face was pale from lack of sleep, and her dark, bob-cut hair was a mess. "Face it Benson, you look like you spent the last two nights in an alley." A wide grin spread across her face. "Yet I feel happy." It was true, she was happy. For the second time in her life, the first being when she first joined SVU, Olivia felt like she was going to make a difference and get justice for all the deserving victims that the system screwed over. Still beaming, she stepped out of her car and headed for work.

"Hey Benson," hollered Brian Cassidy, as smug and vile as ever. "You look like you slept in a ditch. If you're having problems with insomnia, I could certainly help with that." God, she wanted to beat the living shit out of him. Deciding it would do more harm than good, and the fact she wasn't about to let a slug like him ruin her mood, Olivia simply gave him the finger.

"Classy," smirked Elliot, walking into the bullpen from the Captain's office. "Morning Liv," he said amiably, handing her a cup of coffee. "Wow, you certainly can roll with the lack of sleep better than the rest of us. You actually look happy."

Olivia smiled warmly at her partner. Unlike most others in her life, he actually gave the time and energy to actually care to notice her moods. "Thanks El; I'm just glad Falcone's put behind bars for good," she replied, which wasn't false. Sipping the coffee, she smiled again at her partner. It was just the way Olivia liked, not just better than Munch's old coffee (a cup of battery acid had more appeal).

"You don't want to do that Liv," Elliot said as she was about to sit at her desk.

"Why? Do we have a case?"

"Nope, but Munch wants to see all of us at One PP right away."

"What? I thought the arrests were by the book."

"They were; this is about the Batman. Munch is pissed, and the Mayor is giving him hell which is pissing him off even more."

'Oh Bruce," Olivia thought, 'What have you gotten yourself into? Hell, what have I gotten myself into?'

"The mood of our illustrious former Captain is moot. The point is we better haul ass to One PP," said Cassidy, rising out of his chair. "Olivia, it would be a pleasure to give you a ride in my BMW."

"The very idea makes my skin crawl Cassidy," she replied coldly, angry that he used her first name without permission, "I'll ride with Elliot thank you very much." With that she stormed off to the elevator, motioning for Elliot to follow.

Glaring at Cassidy, Elliot decided to give him a piece of his mind. "Look Cassidy, when can you get it under your thick skull that she's not interested? Move on to some bimbo who you have a less than zero shot with and spare all of us the discomfort." Not waiting for his response, Elliot stormed off to join his partner.

Reaching the elevator, he caught Olivia smiling at him. "Thanks El," she whispered, grateful that he stuck up for her. He was almost like the older brother she never had.

"Asshole had it coming."

"Very true. Now let's see what Munch has cooked up for us."

"Ten bucks says he mentions the CIA at least once," smirked Elliot, since the Commissioner's penchant for conspiracy theories was well known.

"I'm not taking a bet that I will surely lose El."

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"Do you see this," shouted Commissioner John Munch, his usual needling demeanor hidden by his anger. He hefted an early morning addition of the _Gotham City Ledger_, whose headline read: "**Mob Boss Busted! **Falcone taken down by Bat. "This is unacceptable! Listen up people, this is now your top priority. Find this crazy bastard in a bat costume."

"I heard it could be an actual bat that escaped the zoo," remarked Captain Arnold Flass of the 2-7, which elicited several laughs from the others present.

"I don't care if this was some deranged nut, a rival gang, a group of coked up shitheads, escaped Martians from Area 51, the Rand Corporation, or CIA assassination teams," at that Elliot winked at Olivia, who sniggered a bit. "Eh hem?" Olivia looked up to see Munch staring at her. "Is there something funny in this entire thing Benson?"

"No Commissioner, I'm just wondering why you're so angry about this. I mean, while I don't approve of his methods, the Batman did us a huge favor right?"

"This 'Batman' is a menace and must be stopped at all costs."

"May I add my two cents to this discussion," inquired Elliot, trying to break the tension between his friend and his boss. "He did just give us Falcone on a silver platter."

"No one takes the law into their own hands in my city Elliot, and I want all of you to work on getting him off the street, got it?"

"Yes Commissioner," they all chanted. 'Great job Benson,' Olivia thought, 'All your friends and coworkers will be hunting you down now.' "Excuse me Munch?"

Munch looked up at her, one of his eyebrows raised. "Yes Olivia?"

"Sorry about earlier. I guess I'm still getting used to you being the head honcho and all. We miss you over at the 1-6, though we don't miss your coffee."

Chuckling, Munch sat down at his desk. "I don't miss my coffee either. I know what you're feeling Olivia, and believe me, I'm just as excited about getting Falcone too. What's the latest on his vics?"

"Well, most of them are traumatized, but none were raped thank God. We're contacting the Honduran Consulate to get them sent home."

"Good." Munch furrowed his brow. "Is that all?"

Olivia cleared her throat, thinking of how to explain this. "I would like a leave of absence for the next three weeks or so."

"Are you sure Olivia? Back when I was your Captain you never took more than a day off."

'Well Munch, I'm going to Wayne Manor to join up with the Batman, who happens to be my best friend Bruce Wayne,' but Olivia knew that she couldn't say that. What to do? "My mother's not feeling well these days," she blurted (which was technically true). "I want to take some time off to take care of her."

"Ah," replied Munch, one of the few people in the department who knew of Olivia's troubled relationship with her mother. Thankfully for her, he decided not to pry. "Ok Liv, I think that's possible, though you're new captain would have to sign off on it."

"Thanks John; have a good one." She gave him an award-winning smile and left the office, seeing Elliot waiting outside the door. "You heard everything didn't you?"

"Guilty," he replied, looking like a five year old caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Just wanted to wait and make sure Cassidy didn't ambush you for the billionth time this month. Listen, if you need any help with your mother, you can call me or Kathy. We'd be glad to lend a helping hand."

"You are so sweet Elliot Stabler. Kathy is one lucky woman." At that moment, her phone rang. "Benson."

"Hey Liv, it's Alex."

"Hey Alex." 'One minute,' she mouthed to her partner, heading to a private corner in the hallway. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if my favorite cousin would like to take a night off from dealing with the scum of the earth and join me for a girls' night. I know this fancy new hotel that has the best prime rib in the city."

Olivia smiled; she spent most of her time as Badass Benson, the scourge of rapists and sex criminals across the city, and now she was going to add masked vigilante on top of that. She deserved a chance to act like a regular girl for once. "Sounds great Alex; you'll pick me up?"

"You got it, see you tonight."

'Well Liv, better have fun tonight, for tomorrow begins the first day of your new life.'

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"Rise and shine sir! Your tea is getting cold." shouted Alfred cheerfully, opening the curtains to let the bright rays of the sun in.

Bruce pulled the sheet over his face, his slumber disturbed. "Bats are nocturnal," he groaned.

"They may be sir, but even for billionaire playboys, three PM is pushing it." He set the tray of tea and a protein shake on the nightstand, knowing Master Bruce preferred a simple breakfast. "The price of leading a double life I fear."

Groaning once more, Bruce suddenly jerked upward, his eyes wide. "Alfred, the drugs must have warped my mind, because I had a very strange dream last night."

"If your dream was about Miss Olivia sir, then I'm afraid it was most real."

"Damn it Liv," whimpered Bruce, sagging back onto the bed. "How could I have let her go through with it? I should have stopped her."

"Miss Olivia has always had a stubborn streak," replied Alfred, amused at the whole situation. "Once she sets her mind to something, I'd be hard pressed to find anyone strong enough to stop her. Even a certain masked vigilante."

"Much as I'd prefer otherwise, you are right. Have you heard from her at all this morning?"

"Ah yes as a matter of fact," said Alfred, picking up a note and a copy of the _Gotham City Ledger_. "First, she wants to confirm you and her little visit to the Applied Sciences Division tomorrow."

"I have to stop making promises after two AM," mumbled Bruce.

"Always a good philosophy Master Bruce. Her second point was to recommend today's paper. Your theatrics made an impression."

Taking the paper in his hand, the headline was enough to jolt Bruce out of his groggy state for good. "Theatricality and deception are powerful weapons Alfred; this is a good start."

Inspecting his various battle scars from last night's escapades, Alfred pointed at his ward. "Miss Olivia might have a plausible excuse for those, being in the constabulary and all, but if those injuries are the prelude to many more to come, I suggest you do something about it. I mean, strange injuries, a nonexistent social life, these things beg the question as to what things does Bruce Wayne do with his time and money."

Chugging down the protein shake in one large swig, Bruce hopped on the ground and started doing his morning (or afternoon) routine of pushups. "What does someone like me do Alfred?"

Alfred shrugged, "Drive sports cars, date foreign models, buy things that are not for sale, etcetera, etcetera. Just remember, if you try to have fun, you might have some by accident."

"Hmm," grunted Bruce, going at his third set of ten. "I think I'll take the Lamborghini tonight."

"You always had good taste sir."

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Bruce pulled up his brand new Lamborghini _Murcielago_, earning looks from the entire hotel staff. "Nice car!" exclaimed the valet, not ever thinking he would even see one of these, let alone drive one (for a short while anyway).

"Thanks," said Bruce, handing him the keys. Muttering softly, he added, "You should see my other one." To the continued stares and jealous curses coming out of the mouth of every guy present, Bruce opened the passenger side door, helping out two gorgeous European Beauties here for next week's Victoria Secret Fashion Show.

An hour later, Bruce was enjoying some post-dinner conversation with several of Gotham's high society. As he expected, the conversation quickly turned to the Batman. "He's done something the police have never done," concluded one woman.

"But you can't take the law into your own hands," interjected a man, "It just invites chaos. Bruce, help me out here."

"Well," Bruce said, smirking, "Anyone who dresses up like a bat clearly has issues." He silently thanked God Olivia wasn't here; he didn't particularly want his ass kicked six ways to Sunday.

"He's put Falcone behind bars," continued the woman, not wanting to lose the argument. "If the police want to take him down, I think it's jealousy."

"Sir," Bruce turned his head to see the hotel manager standing next to him. "The pool is for decoration, and your friends don't have swimwear. I'm afraid you'll have to leave." Bruce turned to see his dates frolicking in the pool.

"Well, their European," he replied, earning a laugh from his companions. "Besides, I'm buying this hotel, and I am changing the rules regarding the pool area." He slipped a check into the man's dinner jacket and jumped in to join his dates.

Outside, Alex and Olivia dropped off Alex's car and entered the hotel. "There is no way Falcone's goons can bury the bust now, not with the amount of press coverage it's been given."

"And I presume Judge Taft is on board?" asked Olivia, grinning.

"Turned white as a ghost when I showed him the photos. Next thing I know, Falcone's remanded to County."

"One problem out of the way, but what about this bat guy? Might screw everything up." Partners though they may be now, if the case tanked because of him, Olivia was determined to kick Bruce's ass, fancy training or not.

Alex scoffed. "Even if they admit in court to being thrashed by a giant bat, which makes Munch's theories look like the Warren Commission, we've got Falcone dead to rights."

"Ok, so when does the trial start?"

"Seriously Liv," Alex blurted, "Enough about work. When was the last time you've been out on a date?"

Looking up at the hotel ceiling, Olivia contorted her face into a lampoon thinking expression. "I'll have to say, not in a year or so. What about you? That Dent guy from IAB has the hots for you."

"No he does not! Tonight we're dressed in our best, and neither of us is leaving until we get a date."

She was right, for between Alex's turquoise evening gown and Olivia's dark purple one, they were a pair of head turners. Several guys, some with women of their own, stared at them as they walked by. Even still, "Alex, come on, no dates. Let's just have a fun ladies night."

"Wet noodle," Alex smirked, before her attention was drawn to a man in a wet suit leading two robed girls to the exit. "Bruce?"

The man turned sharply, revealing that is was in fact Bruce Wayne. "Alex." His smug grin was replaced with an embarrassed smile. Stunned for a moment, he recovered his wits and glanced at Olivia. "Hey Liv."

"Looks like you're having fun, eh Bruce," she said, laughing. Inwardly though, she was feeling slightly jealous that her friend was more interested in her cousin than her. 'What are you doing Benson? Where did this come from?' The feeling passed quickly, and she patted Alex on the shoulder. "I'll give you some time to catch up. Evening Bruce," she called out to him as she walked to the bar.

Now just the two of them, Alex smiled warmly and looked straight at Bruce. "I heard you were back." When Bruce just nodded his head, his mouth not forming any intelligible words, she continued. "What were you doing?"

"I was, uh, swimming," which was technically true. He quickly switched gears. "Wow, it's good to see you."

"You were gone a long time."

Bruce nodded, smiling widely even though his stomach was churning. 'It's just Alex Bruce, calm down.' "How are things?"

"The same; job's getting worse by the day though."

"Can't change the world on your own," he declared, smiling but still trembling inside.

She smiled sweetly at him; even when they were kids, she was always the nicest of the group, saving her passion for court. "What choice do I have, when you're too busy swimming?"

That hit Bruce like a knife to the heart. "Alex," he confessed, "All of – this, it's not – me. I am more inside."

"Come on Bruce," called his dates from the door. "We have more hotels for you to buy!"

"Bruce, deep down you may be that same great kid underneath, but it's not who you are. It's what you do that defines you." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and left to join Olivia.

Bruce sighed and turned toward the exit. "If you only knew," he whispered, no one hearing but himself.

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Feeling nervous, more so than the day she first arrived at SVU (which was saying something), Olivia watched as the elevator descended floor after floor. Since Bruce was the owner of Wayne Enterprises, it had been easy to get her a guest pass, but even in a cream colored blouse and business skirt, Olivia felt out of place.

"Liv," said Bruce, squeezing her hand, "If you don't want to go through with this, it's not too late to forget the entire thing."

Olivia glared at him with an icy look. "What? You think a girl can't handle it?" she spat, her nervousness morphing into anger.

Smirking, Bruce chuckled. "I knew that'd ease the tension."

Realizing what he did, Olivia jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow. "Cocky bastard," she laughed. He really did know how to make her feel better.

An inventory report in his left hand, Lucius Fox raised a mug of coffee to his lips, mind in deep thought. 'Why would Earle authorize the transport of a microwave emitter? The American, British, Israeli, and Australian Governments all refused to purchase.' The only answer available to him was that Earle found another buyer, while not illegal, was certainly a contract violation. "What's the damn point?" he sighed, setting the inventory listing down. This job was all he had, and a bad reference would doom his chances for another. Fox was the proverbial poor dumb bastard caught between a rock and a hard place.

The sound of the elevator opening shook him out of his reverie. "Ah, if it isn't Mr. Wayne." His eyes widened, "And who is your lovely guest?" remarked Fox, thoroughly glad for this new interruption from his boredom.

"Good morning Mr. Fox. May I introduce to you my friend Olivia Benson."

"It is nice to meet you Mr. Fox," said Olivia, extending her hand, taking an instant liking to Lucius Fox. As a detective she could read people quite well, and Lucius Fox seemed like a man of good character.

Fox bowed slightly and kissed her hand, being a true gentleman of the old-school. "Likewise Miss Benson. One doesn't get to meet too many people down here, so every visitor is welcome. Now, what can I do for you two?" he asked, wondering if this was one of Mr. Wayne's many bimbo dates. He certainly wouldn't be a glorified tour guide.

"Well Mr. Fox, I was telling Olivia about my many extracurricular activities, and she is very interested."

"I was especially curious Bruce about your spelunking and base-jumping adventures. You did say Mr. Fox was the best at equipping someone for that?"

Stunned for a moment, Fox grinned and shook his head. "Oh where did you find this woman Mr. Wayne? She seems like a keeper." Bruce laughed while Olivia blushed, making Bruce laugh harder.

"I'll be sure to take that under advisement Mr. Fox. Now, what can you do for my friend?"

"I gather she would want the standard package?"

"I guess so," replied Olivia, trying to contain her excitement. 'God, I'm like a child on Halloween! Keep cool Benson.'

"Well, you are in luck Miss Benson. You see, when I developed the Infantry Armor for the Israeli Defense Forces, I also prepared a version to fit female combat troops." He punched in a code on the keypad and opened the air-sealed drawer. "This up to specification?"

Inspecting the strong yet lightweight armor, Olivia looked at Bruce. "Seems like the perfect spelunking gear to me."

"No objections here; now, let's get you set up for base-jumping. Nothing can quite beat the thrill of that," he said, tipping her a wink.

"I'll take that under advisement," she replied, a smirk plastered on her face. "Now Mr. Fox; I do not want my set of gear to be an exact duplicate of Bruce's. Do you have anything exclusive for me to use?" she asked, smiling sweetly.

"Hmm?" Fox rubbed his bearded chin, thinking. "I believe I have just the thing, only if Mr. Wayne doesn't object. He is the one who signs my paycheck after all."

Olivia giving Bruce her best 'Badass Benson' glare, she replied, "I'm certain Bruce will not object, right?"

Chuckling softly, knowing when he was beat, Bruce lifted his hands in a token of surrender. "Nope, and I promise I won't get too jealous."

"Cocky bastard," Olivia muttered. "So Mr. Fox, what have you got for me and me only?" She sent Bruce another glare.

Strolling to another locked cabinet, Fox returned with a small plastic container. "This is a real beauty Miss Benson," he said, opening the box.

"What is it?"

"It's an electrical stun device, sort of like a taser but attached to the arm like a set of brass knuckles. At full blast, this baby can send out a current which is primed to an exact frequency, which will cause a complete relaxation of a, oh let's say an attacking animal's, muscles in the contact region."

Grinning fiercely, Olivia picked up her newest toy. 'All mine!' "Why wasn't it sold?"

"The charge required a lot of energy, and because of that, the max rate we could use was one charge per hour. Since it was being designed for the Army Special Forces, that was considered too long a delay. It would work wonders the sort of sticky situations experienced by a spelunking, base-jumping billionaire don't you think Miss Benson?" She nodded.

A long and interesting hour later, Olivia had filled her hypothetical shopping cart with a treasure trove of Applied Sciences' latest and greatest. "Well is that everything Bruce? Those caves won't get explored without us."

"I think we've got everything, unless Mr. Fox has anything left?"

Fox suddenly remembered something. "Actually Mr. Wayne, the Tumbler you ordered is ready. Would you and Miss Benson like to take a first look?"

"Tumbler Bruce?" asked Olivia, slightly confused as to why her friend was sharing a naughty look with Mr. Fox. "What are you grinning about?" She would have none of it.

"I think this is something Olivia should see Lucius," said Bruce, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulder, leading her to the test track.

"Well Mr. Wayne, Miss Benson, what do you think?"

Jaw dropping, Olivia gave Bruce a sidelong look. "Why shouldn't I have known you'd do something like this? I mean," she spread her arms, covering the entire vehicle, "This just screams you!"

"I take it the lady is quite taken by it Mr. Wayne."

"The LADY," replied Olivia, not liking how they were referring to her in the third person, "Loves it!" which made Bruce's turn to have his jaw drop. 'Well this is Badass Benson' he reminded himself. "It's just, does it have to be so, black?" Olivia was not amused about how hard Bruce laughed at that.

**A/N: There we go; longest chapter yet. Next up is the training, with a little suspense for the rest of the story.**

**I added a little cause I wanted Olivia to have something that was her own in her batsuit. It'll come in handy later ;)**

**Please Review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Greetings to all. Spring Break is coming soon and I plan to get some good writing done.**

**First off, I tip my hat to thejokersbrother for his review chocked full of ideas. I plan on putting one of them in ;)**

**Right now, I'm going on completely original stuff, since Bruce is training Olivia. I'm molding it on Bruce's training with Cragen, but adding some new stuff as well.**

**Enjoy and review! Also, how does everyone like my new logo?**

**Disclaimer: Do you see the NBC screenwriters cleaning out their desks? If they aren't and you don't, then I own neither SVU nor TDK trilogy.**

Chapter 12: Crash Course

"Hands off the bags Uncle Alfred. I'm perfectly capable of carrying them on my own."

Alfred sighed, knowing she was like this since birth. "As you wish Miss Olivia. You haven't changed a bit since you were this high." He lowered his arm till it was midway up his thigh.

"I'll have to concur with that. Olivia was Badass Benson from the moment she could walk." Olivia flushed, embarrassed that Bruce heard all of that. 'Get used to it Benson, for he's the Batman after all.'

"So Bruce," she began, ascending the main staircase of Wayne Manor. "Which room will I be staying in?"

His resulting grin made her uneasy. "Follow me," he said, leading her into the study and tapping on the piano.

She gave him a furious glare. "No, no way Bruce! I'm not sleeping in the batcave."

Bruce nodded his head, pursing his lips. "Batcave; that has a nice ring to it. I told you Liv, I am going to train you the same way my mentor trained me; only then will you be strong enough to fight alongside the Batman."

"But, but…" she stammered, knowing it was a losing battle. "It's cold and damp. We could catch pneumonia."

Chuckling, Bruce jerked down the lever to the elevator, beginning their descent to Olivia's new home for the next three weeks. "Believe me Liv, I've fixed the place up. You'll be staying in quarters far better than the ones I had to with the League of Shadows."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "For some reason that makes me feel better. Where will you be staying?"

"In my room." What followed was a firm punch in the upper arm. "Oww!"

"What did you expect me to do you ass?" spat Olivia. "What, cause I'm your little pet project you get to spend your nights in a nice comfortable bed?"

"If I said yes, would you leave?" His looked at her curious as to what she would say.

Opening her mouth to yell some more, she instead let out a breath in defeat. "No; I already made a promise to stay."

"Good," smirked Bruce as the elevator reached the cavern. Olivia's eyes immediately caught sight of two army style cots not dissimilar to the ones in the cribs back in the precinct. "Had to make sure you were fully committed. Believe me Liv, I know how to push every one of your buttons."

She hit him in the arm once more, this time playfully. "You really are a piece of work Bruce Wayne. Just remember, what goes around comes around."

"I'm scared already." He walked over and sat on the left cot. "You should get some rest Liv, for tomorrow will be the hardest day of your life."

Olivia raised an eyebrow at him. "You have a lot of competition for that title Mr. Wayne," she said, landing on the cot with a slight poof. "With the things I've seen, it'll take a lot more than a few ninja moves to break me." She leaned back and closed her eyes, grateful for a chance to sleep without having to deal with rape/homicide.

Bruce sighed softly, looking at the calm figure of his best friend and confidant. He remembered the experience of his training with Cragen, and how his mentor made him confront the ghosts of his past, sometimes painfully. 'I hope so Liv, I really hope so; for your sake.'

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The blankets pulled snugly around her, Olivia was thoroughly enjoying her first real sleep in weeks, uninterrupted by calls of homicide or child molestation. "Liv," came a whisper, most likely a dream.

"Mmmm," she mumbled, content in the warm embrace of sleep. Suddenly, she was jerked awake, a strong arm pulling her out of the cot. Instinctively, her arms lashed out, only to be quickly and expertly parried by her assailant.

"What are you seeking?" said Bruce, softly but forcefully.

She steadied herself on wobbly legs, dressed in nothing but a T-shirt and long pajama pants. "What the hell Bruce?"

"I asked," he growled, his voice growing louder, "What are you seeking?"

She gulped, thinking for the right way to answer that. "For the means to fight for justice, and to help those who have no voice. To strike fear in the hearts of those who prey on the innocent."

'Wow, she's eloquent even in the grogginess of early morning,' thought Bruce. It pained him to force her through this, but as Cragen had said long before, it was the only way. "To manipulate the fears in others Liv, you must, as I have, master your own. Are you ready to begin?"

She looked at him, her eyes half drooping from tiredness. "I can barely stand Bruce."

"Death does not wait for you to be ready!" He lunged forward and delivered a firm kick to her abdomen, which sent her reeling to the cave floor. "Death is neither compassionate nor fair." He advanced and gave Olivia a kick in the ribs, causing her to cry in pain. Bruce noticed this, and a small tear welled up in his eye, for it pained him to cause his best friend pain. But she had known what she signed up for, and Bruce knew that if anything happened to Olivia as a result of shoddy training, he'd never forgive himself.

Olivia leapt up, fully awake and seething with anger. 'Ok, so Bruce wants to play; fine, let's play.'

"Make no mistake, here you face death!" He executed a perfect roundhouse kick; only to have it caught midair by Olivia. With a guttural scream, she shoved it aside, momentarily throwing him off balance.

Forming into a fighting stance, as she used many times on so many perps, she motioned him to come forward. "Come on Wayne," she taunted, "I can kick your ass any day of the week."

"Rule number one," Bruce cautioned, "Never underestimate your opponent." He swerved in, jinking and weaving between her kicks. She lunged forward with clenched fists, going for his pressure points. "Tiger." He avoided the furious blows with a grace that surprised her. "Jujutsu." He grabbed her by the arm and brought a fist down on the small of her back, causing her to grunt in pain. Stubbornly, Olivia rose into the fighting stance once more, resolved to not let Badass Benson go down without a fight. "Panther." She charged, forcing him back in the narrow cavern, throwing well executed punches and kicks. "You are skilled detective." She kicked high only to feel his grip on her ankle. "But this is not a dance," he growled, twisting her foot and flipping her on the ground.

Olivia grunted, the pain unbearable. Seeing a shadow looming over her, she closed her eyes in defeat. "You win," she croaked, only to feel Bruce lift her up and envelop her in a comforting hug.

"I'm sorry Liv, I didn't mean to hurt you."

She sighed, knowing he meant it. "It's alright Bruce. I know what I signed up for, and if this is part of the training then I will endure." She pulled away and looked into his eyes. "It must have been hell going through this without anyone you loved."

He sighed, "It was at first, but eventually Cragen became sort of a surrogate father to me, which is why I couldn't let him die that day. Come, let's eat."

Over a roaring campfire that Alfred had set up the day prior, Olivia sipped her mug of tea, the warm liquid counteracting the pain of her many bruises. "Liv?" she heard Bruce say.

"Yes Bruce?"

"What do you fear?"

She looked at him confused. "What do I fear? We know each other like the back of our hands. You should know."

"No Liv," he said, his eyes staring intensely into hers. "You have to tell me. What are your innermost fears?"

Olivia put down the cup, her hands starting to shake. "I can't… I won't." There were terrible things, things Bruce didn't – couldn't know.

"You have to tell me Liv, what do you fear?"

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_For the first time in quite a while, thirteen year old Olivia Benson was happy. A smart student, she had been accepted into a local Catholic school across the North River from her home in the Narrows. Finally, there would be no more worries of getting raped by gang members, cut up by deranged lunatics, or denied a chance at a future by a teacher who would rather get high than teach. "And best of all," she said joyfully to herself, "Alex is in my class! Thank you God." She rarely got to see her cousin, and now she could see her every day. They had agreed to study every day after school at Alex's house, where Olivia felt at home for the first time since leaving Wayne Manor._

_The thought of her old home made her smile wider. "Bruce," she whispered, hugging herself with glee. She had seen him only once since his parents' funeral, and now that she was spending more time with Alex, she could see him more often. God she missed her best friend. It wasn't like she had a crush on him (Olivia was sure that he and Alex did though); it was the fact that no one understood her like he did, and vice versa. Still on cloud nine, she danced to an imaginary tune as she unlocked the door to the dingy apartment._

_The stench hit her nose almost immediately. 'No,' she thought to herself. 'No it's too early.' The powerful reek of booze that seeped through every nook and cranny of the darkened apartment was usually regulated to late evenings, when Olivia made it a fact to stay out of sight in her room. Whenever her mother had drank this much…_

"_Where were you!" Olivia stopped in her tracks, knowing that tone anywhere. Out of the kitchenette strode Serena Benson, a half-empty bottle of vodka in her hand, with an empty one perched on the countertop. "I said where were you? You promised me that you'd be home thirty minutes after school ended. It's been three fucking hours!"_

_Olivia gulped; when sober, which was seldom, Serena was a strict but fair individual, setting firm guidelines but never crossing the line at all. When she drank, her mother became bitter and biting, always finding ways to put her daughter down and make her feel like shit. But when she was completely schnockered, she became a raging monster. "I was studying with a friend," she whispered, voice cracking. It was not a lie, although if her mother knew it was Alex, she'd get it. It had happened before; for some reason Serena wanted her to have nothing to do with her cousin or the Waynes, especially the Waynes._

_As Olivia expected, Serena slapped her hard across the cheek. "You slut, stop lying! I know where you probably were, out having fun with some asshole boy like the ungrateful whore you are." With that, she took a long swig from the bottle and went back to her evil work, slapping Olivia repeatedly._

_She didn't know why she did what she did; of all the personal experience since age nine, she knew that her mother would stop after a few minutes. This time though, Olivia screamed and pushed her mother away with surprising strength, hurling to the floor and smashing the vodka bottle._

_Stunned for a moment, Serena looked at her daughter, her eyes filled with something new, something terrifying. "You bitch!" she snarled, standing as if her anger washed the booze out of her system. Walking over to her daughter, she punched her hard in the face, knocking her over. Olivia was too stunned to react, for her mother never punched her before, it was always slaps or beltings. Struggling to get up, she felt a sharp kick in the ribs, which sent her back on the floor with a scream._

"_You're just like him!" her mother shrieked like a banshee, kicking her in the kidneys. "Just like your fuck of a father! He was swine and so are you!" Olivia waited for the next kick, but it never came. She slowly turned her head to see Serena swigging a bottle of schnapps on the couch, watching Wheel of Fortune as if nothing happened._

_Unable to stand, Olivia just lay there, crying. It wasn't the physical pain, though that hurt like a bitch. It was what her mother said, about her father. She had known since age nine, always reminded that she was the product of a rape when her mother was in her light buzz. But to think she was like the bastard who raped her mother, it hurt worse than the bruises or cuts. She feared that Serena was right, more afraid of that than anything else._

_Fourteen years later_

_With only a small flicker of sunlight peeking up over the ocean, the early morning mist gave the pre-dawn air a sort of enigmatic quality not usually seen in modern day Gotham. The serenity of it all was lost on Olivia, sitting on a park bench, hands on the concealed pistol hidden in her jacket. She was shaking inwardly, her mind whirring at almost light-speed._

"_Calm down Liv, you'll be alright," encouraged Elliot Stabler, her partner for the past year. She sighed and kept her cool, taking deep breaths every few seconds. It was her first real solo mission, and while it wasn't anything undercover, she was going into harm's way. The perp they had been following, Richard White, was wanted for raping and killing an ADA (one of Alex's best friends), brutally beating his business partner, and shooting a woman he had been suspected of raping six months prior. On top of all of this, he had been stalking Olivia, making several detailed phone calls to her, reciting intimate secrets about her life that only her closest family and friends would know. It petrified her, and now it would come to an end one way or the other. They had a tip, and were running with it._

"_Heads up, couple jogging over to you," came Elliot over the receiver. Olivia looked at the path and saw two figures in track suits, an ordinary married couple out for a morning run. She relaxed and let her guard down. Big mistake._

_As the couple drew close, Olivia noticed that the woman had a panicked look on her face. She gave the man a once over and saw the knife. Before she could even stand, the man pushed the woman to the side and lunged for Olivia; she reached and pulled out the gun, but he was too fast and knocked it out of her hand. She looked into his eyes, and stood face to face with Richard White._

"_Run Liv!" screamed Elliot over the receiver, but Olivia didn't, choosing instead to face the man who had been stalking her. "Hello Detective Benson," said White sweetly, like they were the closest of lovers. He jerked the knife, a large Bowie, at her. "Scared aren't you? You should be, all alone in the world, no one to take care of you or love you."_

'_He's trying to bait you, just sit tight and wait for the cavalry.'_

"_A shame really, for such a beautiful girl like you. A mother who couldn't stand you, lovers who all left you, and that billionaire of yours, that Bruce Wayne. Why did he leave? Did he see the same person that the others did, the one that they couldn't stand."_

_It was at that point that Olivia lost control. Screeching a guttural cry, she kicked the knife out of White's hand and gave him a solid right hook to the jaw. He crumpled in a heap completely subdued, but Olivia wasn't done. She kicked him repeatedly, screaming bloody murder. He reached for her ankle but Olivia jerked it away and stomped his fingers, feeling them crunch between her boots. She crouched and hit him over and over, beating his face into a pulp. _

_Still going, Olivia didn't notice the figure behind her. "Liv, stop!" Elliot grabbed her shoulder to try and lead her away. Acting out of pure rage and instinct, Olivia whirled around and cold-cocked her partner in the eye, causing him to wince in pain. Two officers restrained her while the others went to check on White. _

_It was at that point she began to come back to reality. The uniforms' grip loosening, she looked at her partner, seeing him clutch his swollen eye. A look of deep pain on her face, she looked at White, being cuffed and looked at by a medic. He glanced at her, spat out bloody spit, and laughed, a deep belly laugh._

"_You're just like him!" her mother said, her voice replaying over and over in Olivia's mind. "Your father was swine and so are you!" She collapsed on the bench, tears welling in her eyes. 'What have I done?' She began to cry. 'My mother was right, I am a monster.' At that moment in time, Olivia Benson's greatest fear had come true._

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Listening to his friend and partner's soft sobs from across the fire, Bruce could not believe what he had just heard. Sure, he had known about the circumstances of her conception (Alfred had told him at age twelve as to why she didn't visit any longer), and he knew that she had a strained relationship with her mother, but this? He had been so self-absorbed in his own shit that he failed to see the signs that his best friend was hurting too; it broke his heart. "Liv," he whispered. "It's ok."

She looked at him, her face wet with tears. "No it's not Bruce. I'm as much a monster as my mother and my father, whoever he is. I've known for quite a while now." She hadn't ever told anyone about her fear. Alex knew all the gory details of her childhood, as did Elliot to an extent, but none of them knew this. Olivia had wanted to tell Bruce that day, but he hadn't been there, and the fear had been festering inside her ever since.

"It's not true Liv. You are a good person with one of the warmest hearts I have ever seen. This is just a fear, as irrational as it is crippling. I know more than anyone that you have to let go and conquer your fear lest it destroy you forever."

Wiping her nose, she looked straight at him. "What did your mentor say regarding this?"

"He said vengeance was how he conquered his anger and fear, but both of us know that it isn't the true path. Alex said to me that revenge is about making yourself feel better, not about harmony. You are a good person deep down, and all of us know it. You have to let go, for only then will you be at peace with yourself."

Smiling, she took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was already starting to fade now that Olivia knew that she wouldn't be alone. "I'll try."

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"Why hello again Miss Benson. I'll have to say this is quite a surprise."

Olivia smiled weakly, for the pace of the last three weeks was grueling. 'To think, Bruce went through three years of it!' She had lost count of all the different weapons he had made her train with, and the barking dogmas about theatricality and stealth still echoed through her brain like church bells. 'It's like the fucking ABC song; try as you might you'll never forget it.' She had been getting at most four hours of sleep per night, and while being a detective had prepared her for that, it did not prepare her for Bataan Death March type levels of exertion. 'I swear, I've lost twenty pounds and all my fat content, although that is probably for the best.' Every day brought new sensations, most of pain and crippling fatigue, but through all of it, Olivia never felt more alive or content. For the first time in her life, she would be making a real difference; she just had to get past Bruce's ridiculous test first.

The man she was visiting looked behind her, a bit puzzled. "So, where is Mr. Wayne?"

"I'm afraid it's just me today Mr. Fox. Bruce is otherwise engaged at the moment." Her first real day off in the entire training regimen, Bruce was currently having lunch with Alex, which he did twice a week (it had been Olivia's idea; from the way Bruce acted at the hotel, she thought it would be good for him to reconnect with his other childhood friend). After that, while she rested, he would be at the ceremonial dinner for Wayne Enterprises going public, slated for the day after tomorrow. She subconsciously rolled her eyes at the thoughts of the European bimbos he would be bringing; it was part of his cover, but Olivia didn't have to like it.

Fox smirked, intrigued by this woman. "So what can I do for you this fine day? You having trouble in your spelunking?"

She chuckled, growing to like the older man more every day; he reminded Olivia of an Ivy League John Munch without the screws loose in the head. "My extreme taste in sports is doing quite well thank you. My concern is with my personal safety."

"Come now? A detective like you scared? Aren't you well equipped enough already?" he asked, his eyes drifting to the badge and gun strapped to the hemline of her slacks.

Olivia gave him a sheepish look, as if he had busted her in a lie. "Bruce was right about you being perceptive. I would like to say my gun can protect me from anything, but as a cop my duty is to disarm an attacker without use of deadly force. Plus, the attacker could disarm me in a heated confrontation."

"Oh, I'm sure no one would try to attack you." Olivia grinned slightly; even tired and in attractive clothes she still gave off the Badass Benson vibe. It was quite the ego boost.

"I live in the narrows Mr. Fox." Fox nodded, that statement saying plenty. "Is there something nonfatal you could give me that would be both easily concealed and at the same time easily deployed?"

Fox leaned forward in his chair, right forefinger tapping his forehead. "Let me think; I have plenty of hand-to-hand weapons that were designed for this sort of thing, but you want something nonlethal. Hmmm." All of a sudden, Fox looked as if a light bulb went on above his skull. "I think I have exactly what you are looking for Miss Benson, and as a cop you'll appreciate it."

"Oh I bet I will," she replied, for Fox hadn't let either her or Bruce down yet.

After rummaging through the storage containers for several minutes, fox returned with two small cylinders, painted black of course. Olivia furrowed her brows, not knowing what to make of these. Sensing her confusion, Fox happily relieved her of her ignorance, "These Miss Benson, are a prototype concealed nightstick design. We drew this bad boy up for the NYPD so their undercover officers could have some hidden defense besides a firearm. We were scheduled for thousands, but after the funds got diverted for post-9/11 cleanup, Chief Van Buren of the NYPD canceled the order and Earle chucked it into this garbage dump."

"Too bad, it would have been perfect for that role," said Olivia from experience. "Where is the rest of it?" Nightsticks were usually twenty inches, while this one was only six.

"Here," he put both into Olivia's hands. "Give them a tight squeeze." Olivia complied and was rewarded by the nifty contraptions extending to the standard twenty inches. "They're retractable by tightly pressing a button at the base of the grip, which adds to the concealment and deployment benefits. Made of a special titanium alloy, strong as hell I might add. No need to worry about it breaking on some rapist's thick skull."

Captivated by the device, Olivia retracted and extended the nightstick several times, getting the hang of it. Raising them into a fighting stance, she practiced several short moves, the weapons almost like an extension of her arm.

"I can gather that you are pleased Miss Benson."

Glaring at her newest toy, Olivia nodded, a wide grin appearing on her face. "You have assumed correctly Mr. Fox." Tomorrow was the big test of her skills, and boy would Bruce get the surprise of his life.

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"Welcome back sir. How did your lunch with Miss Cabot go?"

Bruce tossed the dinner jacket from last night's event on the chair in the foyer absentmindedly. "It went quite well actually." He smiled. Despite having spent the night with a gorgeous South American supermodel (part of his persona as the playboy billionaire), his thoughts revolved around Alex, and how the old feelings he had for her were rushing back to him.

"Always a pleasure to hear that sir."

His thoughts drifting to the other woman in his life, Bruce turned to the butler, "Did you find it Alfred?"

Lifting a small package, Alfred nodded, handing it to Bruce. "Yes Master Bruce, and believe me, it was hard work from going off your general description of 'Hallucinogenic flower.'"

Bruce opened the package, thumbing over the freeze dried pack of flowers airmailed from India. "From my experience with these Alfred, I think I described them rather well."

"Quite so sir, but do you realize how many flowers exist that have hallucinogenic properties, and how hard it was to narrow it down to just one?"

Smiling innocently, Bruce patted the butler on the shoulder, "Well, thank God I have you to handle such things Alfred." With that he walked briskly to his lair.

Shaking his head slightly, Alfred walked back to the kitchen to see to supper. 'Cheeky bugger. I must be rubbing off on him.'

Bruce walked into his study and began his descent to the batcave (he had started calling it that since Olivia coined the name). Arriving on the main cavern where his quarters and workstation were, he wasn't surprised to see Olivia all dressed and ready to go.

"Bruce, why is it that I have to wear this damn Ninja outfit? I look like an extra for an anime movie in this thing. Couldn't I just wear my suit?"

Chuckling at her eagerness and classic impatience, Bruce tossed the packet of flowers on the workbench, heading for his cabinet. "I will not let you fight in the suit until I am sure you are ready. Besides, this is what I wore in my skills test the day I destroyed the League of Shadows. I think I did pretty well for myself," he said with a smirk.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "You are one cocky bastard Bruce. At least you let me use the armor." She ran her hands down the black carapace of the body suit Fox had provided her. It was surprisingly light for its endurance, and being the female version had an extra flexibility that hugged her lithe but voluptuous frame quite well. "So what are we using for this little hoedown?" she asked Bruce, who as busy donning his fighting attire.

"This," he said, tossing her a sheathed katana, blade sharp and smooth, glinting in the flicker of the halogen lights. "However, once the test begins, anything short of deadly force is fair game."

Her grin could have elicited a confession from the most hardened serial killer. "Perfect," whispered Olivia, making sure Bruce didn't hear her.

Taking the packet in his hand, Bruce carefully extracted the flower and began to grind it in a mixing bowl, just as Cragen had did so many months ago.

"Bruce? I may be your friend and partner in this crazy enterprise of yours, but I'm still a cop. That better not be the sort of thing GPD Narcotics would concern itself with."

"Relax Liv; save the cop mode for the test. This is just something to hone your senses. Trust me, I have done nothing to you that I didn't go through myself." He poured boiling water into the mixture and handed it to Olivia, indicating she had to smell the vapors emanating from the bowl.

Bending her face to the bowl, now cupped in her hands, she instantly felt her mind warp. Looking at Bruce's eyes, they weren't the green orbs she was familiar with, but instead glowed a bright blue, like some sort of monster. "Conquer your fear," he instructed, "For only then can you conquer your enemies." He pulled a mask over his face and suddenly he was gone, disappearing into the blackness of the cavern.

The katana gripped tightly in her hand, Olivia tugged her own mask down over her face and squinted in the darkness, only the rush of the underground stream and the screeching of bats piercing the stillness of the air. The halogen lights had shut off, leaving only the eerie red glow of the emergency lamps. She squinted, trying to make out the shapes and terrain. Suddenly, a hazy vision flashed through her mind, one of her mother, beating her and screaming she was swine. Letting out a cry, she nearly doubled over, struggling to keep upright.

"Conquer your fear," boomed the authoritative voice of her best friend, not coming from any particular direction. "You must transcend your doubts and insecurities. Only then, will you be able to resist death!" Like a specter, he emerged from the shadows, furiously slashing at her. Cop mode kicking in, Olivia parried his blows, positioning herself for a counterstrike. Before she could do so however, he vanished again. "Use your surroundings; be mindful of how they can help you."

Tensing up, the sound of her quick breaths piercing the sudden silence, Olivia raised the Katana and made her way toward the center of the cave, getting out into the open. If Bruce wanted to attack her now, he'd have to reveal himself long before he got within striking distance.

Standing in the ankle deep water, the gushing stream started to flicker like flames, confusing Olivia's already crowded mind. 'It's just the drug,' she kept telling herself, when suddenly, she came face to face with her worst fear, the day in the park with White, replayed along with her mother's voice, "You are just like him! You are exactly like your monster of a father!" She shut her eyelids, forcing them down with as much strength as her ocular muscles could give. 'No, I'm not.' As if by magic, the fear vanished. The visions remained, but the fear was gone.

She was interrupted by the sound of splashing; wheeling around, she managed to see Bruce lunge with his katana. Olivia sidestepped, only to slip and fall on a smooth stone lying on the stream bed. Her own katana flying wildly through the air, landing with a splash just out of reach, she fell in the stream, apparently defenseless. "Always stay vigilant. You failed to do so and you also failed to mind your surroundings." He raised the katana and pointed it at her. "Yield."

"Rule… number… one," she panted, "Never underestimate your opponent. With a fierce cry, she jumped onto her feet and pulled out her nightsticks, hands grasping tightly on the handles. Watching Bruce's eyes widen through his vision slit as they extended to their full length, she charged and lashed out furiously, even managing to land blows to his arm and shoulder, further disorienting him. Losing his own footing, Bruce collapsed in the water himself. "Now, what did you just say?" said Olivia, smirking as she removed her mask. "Oh that's right, yield."

He removed his own mask, smiling widely as well. "Fox?"

She nodded, "Fox."

"I'm going to have a word with him," he said, standing.

"Don't you dare Bruce Wayne!" she scolded, jabbing him in the chest with one of the nightsticks. "As I just demonstrated, I can kick your ass anytime, all the time."

"That you can Liv." He looked into her eyes. "Are you afraid Olivia?"

She stared deep into his soul, seeing the concern lying deep down inside him. "Not anymore Bruce. Not anymore."

**A/N: I know this was pretty long, but I got carried away wanted to convey the deep feelings that plagued Olivia, just like I described Bruce's in earlier chapters. **

**Previously, I left out many descriptions and in depth characterizations to save space, but I've decided now to write longer chapters in the future. I might add some more to the earlier chapters if you want.**

**Just as a little note, this story will not be a Bruce/Olivia romance. That will come later; I'm just laying the foundation ;)**

**Please Review, and let me know what you think about my new logo.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Spring Break is here ladies and gentlemen, and with that comes time to write.**

**First off, I've been getting questions about certain things, and I will happily answer them. While Bruce had to start from scratch in his training, Olivia is not a blank slate. She has police training, plus self-taught skills from living in the Narrows and from dealing with the most violent psychos in the world. Besides, she'll learn on the job and Bruce will be right beside her.**

**Now, we get some ominous suspense, plus the return of the infamous Dr. Huang, and some Stabler family time.**

**In case of confusion, the first section of this chapter is set a week before the end of the last one.**

**Disclaimer: If whoever has been in charge of SVU for the last five seasons is not sacked with bad references, I do not own either story.**

Chapter 13: Undercurrents

The cool sea breeze blowing through his curly white hair, Captain Will Johnson inhaled the fresh scent. God, he loved the sea, especially when it was this calm and steady. None of the hustle and bustle of land here, no sir. 'Strange,' he thought to himself, 'That I would be so compatible with God's oceans.' He had been born in Nebraska, and the largest body of water he had seen before running away to Gotham at sixteen was the North Platte River, once. 'Amazing I didn't get seasick on my first voyage.'

Chuckling at his life story, he wearily left the comforting embrace of the South Atlantic and entered the bridge of his ship, the _MV Wayne McReady_, a 40,000 ton containership belonging to the shipping subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises. "Twenty degrees starboard Mr. Henson."

"Aye, aye sir," called the quartermaster, one of Johnson's most dependable Able Seamen. As he turned the wheel, the ship made a slight lurch to the right, turning slowly (even with the best engines and rudders, it took time for a 40,000 ton ship to turn).

"Wheel amidships," said Johnson, smiling softly as the ship straightened out. He loved his job, and was sure he'd have to die before he retired.

A warning light blinking on and off startled him out of his reverie. "Sir," shouted the ship's radioman. "We've lost all satellite communication."

He growled, irked at the complication; things like this happened all the time, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "Get the shortwave set up then," growled Johnson, who hated when things fucked up.

The radioman ducked back into the bridge, his face ashen. "It's not working either sir. Someone is jamming our communications."

Johnson's face went a deathly pale, the blood draining out of it at an alarming rate. 'Shit,' his mind kept repeating over and over again. Pirates weren't a major threat in these waters, but then again no one had ever jammed his communications before. Unbeknownst to most of the crew, the ship was carrying weapons, powerful weapons, on route to one of the more, unofficial buyers. Johnson was one of the few captains that Earle trusted to undertake these voyages, mostly because he shut up and didn't ask questions. "All stop."

"All stop, aye sir," barked the quartermaster, sending a signal to the boys in the engine room to shut the engines. The engines shut down thirty seconds later, filling the bridge with an eerie silence. It was truly terrifying.

"What the hell is that?" exclaimed a young seaman, on his first voyage. Johnson looked out the port window to see a shape rapidly approaching. 'Is that a seagull?'

The shape got bigger and bigger, revealing itself to be a helicopter, a rather large one. "Fuck!" yelled the first officer, a retired Navy man. "HIND!" he screamed, referring to a Soviet era attack chopper. Before Johnson could scream a command, the multiple rocket launchers on the wing stubs let loose a barrage of rockets, engulfing the bridge in flames.

Satisfied that his work was done, the HIND's pilot maneuvered the craft toward the aft end of the ship, hovering as close as possible to the deck. "Go, go, go!" he called out to his passengers, before sending an encrypted radio signal for the second chopper, this one a MI-26 heavy cargo helicopter, telling it that the coast was clear.

Guns and swords at the ready, four men wrapped in black tunics and masks leapt out of the rear troop compartment of the HIND, quickly sweeping and clearing the deck. Behind them strode their leader, hands free but with twin katanas sheathed on her back. The woman was dark-skinned, her frizzy hair tied back in a sensible ponytail. Dressed in a tight-fitting tunic with grey riding gloves, her overall appearance was bolstered by the intimidating look on her face, an amalgamation of smug arrogance and pure hatred. With a flick of her hand, she signaled for the men to proceed down into the hold.

Inside the hold, the seamen and their bodyguards (hired by Wayne Enterprises), were milling about, on edge due to the explosions. The guards, all ex-military of some kind (non-American), kept their German made G3 assault rifles at the ready, in case of trouble.

Outside the hold, the ninja mercenaries assembled to attack, only to be waved off by their leader. "Their mine," she snarled, motioning for the lead man to prep a semtex plastic explosive on the watertight door. He placed a time fuse in the explosive, and signaled for the others to clear the area.

BOOM! The door blasted inward, two of the ninjas hurled flashbang grenades into the hull, temporarily stunning the guards and workers. Wasting no time, the woman leapt into action, drawing her fierce looking swords. With a grunt, she decapitated one of the guards, his head sliced clean off.

Recovering from the blindness caused by the flashbangs, the seamen ran for cover while the guards leveled their rifles and fired at full automatic. Bullets pinging off the bulkhead and containers, the woman tucked and rolled right into two guards. With a flick of her wrist, she sliced one guard's leg through and through, while she buried the other sword into the second guard's midsection. The fourth guard quickly reloaded his weapon, swinging it at the woman, but with lightning reflexes, she hurled the first katana right into his heart. Tugging at the second sword, she was horrified when it refused to come out. The last guard aimed his G3, right for the woman's skull.

Just as she thought her death was imminent, what should have been a shot was instead a grunt. Looking at the guard, she noticed a sword point protruding out of his stomach, a figure behind him. Coughing up blood, the guard collapsed to the ground as the figure removed his sword. "You are brash Monique. You relish the fight too much, and it will be your undoing someday."

Glaring at her mentor, Monique Jeffries huffed and whistled for her team to enter the hold. Staring at the device in the center of the hold, she asked, "So this is what we're after?"

Her mentor nodded his head. "Yes; would you like to do the honors?" Jeffries grinned, stepping forward eagerly and taking the control pad in her hands. Her mentor sighed, 'She has skill, but it pales in comparison to Bruce. How I wish he was here by my side.' His thoughts were drowned out by the machine, which whirred and glowed. Soon the entire ship was covered in steam, pipes bursting everywhere.

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William Earle was sitting in his office, swilling a glass of expensive cognac, a Hayden symphony playing over a music system he had installed. He usually didn't drink while at work, but he had a lot to celebrate. Wayne Enterprises had gone public today, and already the share price had virtually doubled, bringing huge profits to the company and its shareholders. "And it's all my doing," he murmured, a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

"Mr. Earle." He turned his head lazily to the door, seeing his secretary with her head poking through the half opened entrance.

He was annoyed at the intrusion, hoping to get some well-deserved (at least in his eyes) alone time after the hustle and bustle of bringing the company public. "What is it? I thought I told you that I didn't want to be disturbed."

"I'm sorry sir, but the Executive Vice President is here to see you; he says it's urgent."

Earle groaned, wishing he could turn him away; but the Executive VP wasn't an idiot. If he said something was urgent, it was urgent. "Alright, send him in," he sighed, switching off the music.

Marching in, looking half harried, half scared shitless, John Morgenthau immediately plopped down in the plush chair directly in front of Earle's desk. He pointed to the tumbler of cognac. "May I?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

His deputy's attitude making him somewhat nervous, Earle just nodded his head, unsure of what to say. Morgenthau was his protégé, the man he hoped would take over the company at his retirement. Dressed in a silk Armani suit, wire frame glasses, and a blue button-down shirt, he reminded Earle of himself twenty years ago (he had the same killer instinct when it came to business, an attitude not shared with the previous Executive VP, Lucius Fox).

Pouring himself a double shot, Morgenthau downed the entire glass in one swig, gasping as the fiery liquid slid down his throat. "That's good stuff Will. Really helps with the nerves."

"I'm aware of that John, now let's cut the bullshit," spat Earle, anxious on what had made his deputy so nervous and angry he wasn't spitting it out. "What the fuck is going on?"

Taking a deep breath, Morgenthau started, "Two days ago, the Brazilian Navy Patrol Boat _Grajaú_ intercepted one of our cargo ships off the coast of Belem. The ship was heavily damaged, the entire bridge blown apart."

"Blown apart?" asked Earle, stunned. 'If the shareholders find out…'

"Yes, as in sky high. It was wandering aimlessly, no engine power at all. All crew are presumed dead."

"Which ship is it?"

Morgenthau took another deep breath, knowing his boss would flip. "The _Wayne McReady_ sir."

"What!" It took all the self-control Earle could muster not to fly into an explosive rage. "Has the ship been secured?"

"Yes; after the initial discovery, we made the Brazilians hold off until we could get our own people to guard the ship. It's being towed to a friendly port as we speak."

"Were any of the weapons missing?" This was a sensitive subject, for that ship was carrying the means that allowed Earle to rise to the top, illicit (though technically not illegal) weapons sales to unapproved clients.

"One, a prototype microwave emitter we had sold to the Iranian Government. Its use is mainly for desert warfare. From what our teams can gather is that somebody, umm, turned it on."

Earle spun his index finger in a circle. "And?"

"From what I can gather by looking at the design reports, and forgive me but I'm not an engineer, the device uses focus microwaves to heat liquid water to boiling, instantly vaporizing an enemy's water supply. The damage to the ship was catastrophic, though the bridge was destroyed by something else."

"You're thinking pirates."

"Yes, or terrorists."

Earle sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Alright, this is how we're going to handle this. Keep this at a need-to-know basis, and those who know are to keep their mouth zipped unless clearing it with me first."

"Shouldn't the FBI or the Defense Department…"

"No, we cannot risk the bad publicity, especially this close after going public. Me, I'm going to find out what I can about this machine. Where did it come from?"

"Applied Sciences, Fox's division sir."

'Great, I have to deal with Lucius Fox.' "Call him and say I need to meet with him ASAP."

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Up bright and early as always, Alfred descended in the elevator toward the Batcave (with the new occupant joining them the name was now official), a tray of coffee and pastries in his hands. The elevator stopped with a thud, the doors opening to the semi-enclosed meeting/planning room. A lone figure wearing sweats and a t-shirt emblazoned with the letters GPD was seated in front of the computer screen, the footage from the warehouse displayed prominently in high definition. "I have to say," quipped Alfred, causing the figure to twirl around in fright, "You are worse than Master Bruce these days."

Her stunned look softening into a smirk, Olivia rolled her eyes at her surrogate father. "Well Uncle Alfred, the beds at Wayne Manor are so damn comfortable. It takes all the willpower we possess to get up in the morning. Apparently I have more than he does, although it doesn't surprise me one bit."

"What doesn't surprise you one bit?" said Bruce, causing Olivia to jump again.

"God dammit! First you and then Alfred; I need to steel my nerves a bit and stop being so jumpy."

Chuckling, Bruce, clad in a bathrobe draped over his engraved silk pajamas, made his way to Alfred and grabbed a mug of coffee. "Just remember Liv, the only ones who can sneak up on you now are me and Alfred. You'll be terrifying people from the shadows in no time."

"Oh shut up," she glared at Bruce, silently happy at the ego boost.

"So as I said, what were you two talking about?"

Now it was Olivia's turn to chuckle, which caused Bruce to furrow his brows in annoyance. After several seconds of his death glare, she composed herself as best she could (which wasn't easy) and answered "You."

"Only good things I hope," he said, the look on his face reading 'Which is everything.'

She smiled mischievously, "Maybe, and maybe not."

Scowling, Bruce turned to his butler, "Tell me something Alfred, when did Olivia Benson become such a tease? Is this some kind of _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ kind of thing?"

Giving his ward a good natured smile, Alfred replied, "I have no clue what you mean Master Bruce. Now if both of you would excuse me, I have laundry to clean." With that, her made an about face and walked to the elevator.

"To think, I thought he was my employee. Who does he work for now Liv, you or the GPD?"

Laughing, Olivia rose from her seat and playfully swatted Bruce on the arm. "Oh come on Bruce, you can be such a drama queen. Alfred loves you, he just loves me more."

"Really?" blurted Bruce, knowing he was baiting a monster but thinking the chance too tempting. "How is that possible?"

She gave him her best innocent schoolgirl look, complete with the shy, twinkling eyes. "Well, I am the more lovable of the two of us."

Bruce just stood there for a moment, his face as impassive as during the training sessions. After several seconds though, his lips started to twitch upward, a smirk forming on his face. It was obvious to Olivia that he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't you even think about it Bruce Wayne!"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Unable to contain himself any longer, Bruce started cackling, tears coming out of his eyes. Giving him her best eyes-for-perps glare to shut him up, she was only rewarded by more laughter. "And this," he finally stammered after nearly three minutes, "Only bolsters my point."

Elbowing him in the ribs, Olivia turned away. "Ass," she muttered picking up one of the pastries Alfred brought down. Taking a bite, she was immediately absorbed in the taste, which could only be described as heavenly by the woman whose meals were usually in the form of takeout containers. "Mm mm, what does he put in these that make them so good?"

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Bruce shook his head. "Beats the hell out of me."

"So you're saying," she said, he mouth full of pastry, "That you can build this lair and operate a giant bat costume but not know how your butler makes your breakfast?"

"That pretty much sums it up."

Olivia shook her head in frustration. "Men."

Catching the image on the screen, Bruce stepped toward the console. "This is the footage from the night of the warehouse raid," he stated in a serious tone now that work was involved (unofficial work that is).

Noticing the change in his voice, Olivia also became professional. "Yes it is. I woke up early this morning and decided to take a look, see what I can pick up."

"Always good to have a detective's input. What did you find that neither I nor Alfred could?"

"I noticed that before a truck departed, this guy," she pointed at a figure on the screen, zooming in. "Whispered something to the driver. From what I can tell, this guy is one of Falcone's men."

"He is," said Bruce matter-of-factly. "I knocked him out myself."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. I had a talk with Elliot the other day, sort of a catching up between friends, and I casually brought up the case since it's been bugging me a while. He mentioned that none of the drivers they picked up knew where the shipments were going."

"So they were told by this guy right before shipping out with the drugs."

"Exactly Bruce; you would have made a good detective, not as good as me of course, but good."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"Wise decision, now that only means the top echelon of the mob knows where their headed. The question is why would they go through such lengths to protect their dealers? Dealers are like roaches, squash one and more will come scurrying out."

"Unless the dealers aren't the ones they're protecting." 'She's good,' thought Bruce. The GPD was lucky to have Badass Benson on the payroll.

"You did say half the trucks were on their way to a second location. Now, we haven't got Falcone or any of the others to talk, and the man in black," she gave Bruce a knowing smile, "would be ill advised to try and talk to them where they are currently residing. This leaves us only with…" she tapped a few keys and the image zoomed to a particular person.

"Cassidy," growled Bruce. He hadn't met the man, but from what Olivia said, he was a real asshole. "Do you know of his involvement?"

"I tend to stay as far away from Cassidy as possible for obvious reasons, but I bet Elliot can shed some light on this. He had the misfortune of being Cassidy's partner before I came in the picture."

"Well then, I'll have to pay Elliot a little visit." He chuckled, "The last time I saw him he was pointing a gun at me. Didn't look to happy either."

Olivia snickered, "Oh, he's like that with everyone believe me."

"After that, we can see for ourselves what Cassidy knows."

Eyes widening as she fully comprehended that statement, Olivia whispered, "We?"

Smirking, Bruce looked straight into her eyes. "Yep."

"This is going to be fun," said Olivia, mouth contorting into a fiendish grin.

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Dr. George Huang was feeling harried, and with good reason. The last steps for his master plan, put on hold for two weeks thanks to this bat creature all over the news, were finally getting into place and it was costing him much needed sleep. 'If I wanted to work nonstop for seventy-two hours straight I should have stayed with the FBI,' he thought, but what was the fun in that. Running Arkham Asylum was definitely preferable to his government work.

"I'm glad you could make it on short notice Dr. Huang," said the warden of Gotham County Jail, waiting just outside the cell block.

"Well, the welfare of society is of the utmost importance to me," he lied. He prided on his ability to lie with ease. His impassive, all mood smile could disguise any emotion. "So what is ailing Mr. Falcone?"

"He slit his wrists after bumbling about CIA mind control for the past week. Probably looking for the insanity plea since jury selection starts at the end of the week, but just in case…"

"I understand warden, better safe than sorry."

"Right, open the door Harris," she barked to the mustachioed guard, who complied instantly.

Entering the interview room, Huang noticed a skinnier, more fatigued Carmine Falcone sitting at the table. "Hey doc," he called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I can't take it anymore. The CIA is after me; the walls are closing in; blah blah blah. A couple more days of this food should definitely throw me over the edge though."

"What do you want?" asked Huang, the smile on his face betraying nothing.

Falcone leaned in, a smirk on his face. "I want to know what you'll give me to keep my mouth shut."

"About what? You don't know anything."

"Ah but I do doc. I know there's something mixed into the drugs; I know about you're little experiments on the inmates of your nuthouse. I own the muscle in this town Huang, so every dirty little secret you have I know about. Whatever your boss is planning, it's big, and I want in."

Huang, still smiling, took off his glasses. "Well since I am supposed to give you a psych evaluation, would you like to see my mask?" He opened his briefcase and pulled out a burlap hood, flicking a small switch surreptitiously. "This shouldn't be frightening to a guy like you, but these crazies, they can't stand it."

"So when did the nut take over the nuthouse?"

His smile not at all changed, Huang put on the mask and doused Falcone with a special gas.

About a minute later, Falcone's tortured screams in the background, Huang stepped out of the room. "Well I can be sure that he's not faking. I'll talk to the judge about having him transferred to Arkham where I can properly treat him." 'One problem down.'

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"And one more little strap and presto!" Olivia twirled around, her cape swooshing in the still cave air. "How do I look Bruce?"

Grabbing his helmet off the table, Bruce replied in the raspy growl of the Batman. "Terrifying," he said, putting every ounce of meaning into that word.

The grin on Olivia's exposed mouth (the only part of her face exposed by the helmet) could have sent the entire Falcone crime family booking for the hills or cathedrals. "Perfect."

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As was the ritual in the Stabler household, whenever he had the good fortune of being home, Elliot would say goodnight to each of his kids oldest to youngest. It had started thirteen years ago as to keep Maureen from getting jealous when her little sister came around and just continued on from there. He didn't mind, for no father loved his kids more than Elliot Stabler.

"Hey Maur," he called, opening his oldest daughter's door.

His oldest was at her desk, gazed at the computer when he entered. Upon noticing him, Maureen immediately turned around, a miffed look on her face. "Daaad!" she whined, stomping her foot on the carpeted floor. "You're supposed to knock!"

Elliot sighed; back when she was six, she used to run over to him and hug his legs whenever he entered the room. Now, at the ripe age of sixteen, all she did was complain. 'Where has the time gone?' "Father's privilege," he stated matter-of-factly.

Maureen rolled her eyes, a trait she took after him unfortunately. "I'm sixteen years old dad; a little privacy would be appreciated."

Chuckling, Elliot strode over and hugged his daughter. "You shouldn't have anything to hide from me young lady, and bringing up your age only weakens your case." He remembered the little escapades he had at her age, and wanted to make sure she didn't repeat them. Done remembering his youth, Elliot looked down on his daughter, dad mode kicking in. "Did you finish your history essay on the Korean War?"

"Yeas dad, I did, like half an hour ago." She blinked rapidly, her signature tell that she was lying.

"Don't lie to me young lady," he growled. "We made a deal, no computer until all homework is done." He picked up her history folder, opening it. "Let's see what we got. If it's a section of the encyclopedia taped to a piece of notebook paper, so help me I'll…" Elliot got no farther than that, for right at the front of the mass of papers was a perfectly printed, four page essay. His jaw dropped.

"Well dad," said Maureen, grinning at what had to be a hilarious sight.

Putting down the folder, Elliot smiled sheepishly, knowing when he was beat. "Sorry Maur; good job." He pulled her into another warm hug.

Hugging him back, Maureen giggled. "You seriously have to trust me more."

"You're growing up sweetie. I'll make sure to trust you a little bit more from now on ok."

She looked up at him with a glint in her eye. "Enough to let me go to Nicole Sherman's party Friday night?"

He smirked and kissed her on the head. "Don't push your luck. Good night Maur."

Heading for the door, he heard his daughter sigh. "Good night dad," she called as he closed the door.

Shaking his head from the little trick Maureen pulled on him, Elliot made his way to his middle child's room, rapping slightly on the door. "Katie, are you awake?"

"Seriously?" called out his oldest daughter. "You'll knock on her door but not mine."

"Go back to sleep Maur," he shouted, unable to control his resulting laughter. It was always hectic with his kids but he loved every minute of it. "Katie," he whispered, slowly opening the door. The scene made him smile. Kathleen was passed out, the covers pulled right up to her head. Blonde haired and graceful like her mother, Kathleen also possessed the hot temper and overall personality of her father, much to his constant frustration. It wasn't often that he was able to see his little princess so serene like now, especially now that she hit puberty. Tiptoeing quietly, he leaned over his sleeping daughter and gave her a light kiss on her cheek. "Good night Katie," he whispered, making his way out of the room.

While Kathleen was being an angel, Lizzie and Dickie were doing their best to kill each other. Being twins and of the opposite gender, they were very close but also resented each other about half the time. "Hey!" he barked, causing them to stop and stare at him. Like most ten year olds, they thought their father only one step below God. "What's all this?"

"He started it!" hollered Lizzie, pointing at his brother.

"Nu uh. It was you butmunch," replied Dickie, shoving his sister and starting the fight all over again.

"That's it!" With all his strength, and he had plenty, Elliot lifted both twins in his arms and chucked them on the bunk bed, tickling each mercilessly.

"Daddy stop!" they both shouted between laughs.

"Say you're sorry to each other." It took nearly a minute but the two finally gave up and apologized. "Now, good night and behave yourselves," he scolded, kissing each on the forehead. He turned to see Kathy standing in the doorway, smiling contentedly.

"You are such a good father."

"I try," he said self-depreciatingly, which was countered by his massive smirk.

She kissed him, smiling against his mouth. "You try very hard," she whispered. "Now go take out the trash while I take a shower."

"Yes ma'am," he said, taking off down the stairs, picking up the garbage in the kitchen.

Elliot deposited the bag of garbage inside the trashcan when he noticed a figure standing on the ledge of the two-story brownhouse. "Evening Sergeant," rasped the Batman.

Closing the door so no one inside would disturb them, Elliot leaned on the wrought iron railing. "The mayor's been riding One PP for three weeks about you. Commissioner Munch has set up a task force to try and find you, sys you're a menace to society."

"Is that what you think Sgt. Stabler?"

His gaze drifting to the sidewalk, Elliot sighed, "Not really. I think you're just trying to help, but I've been wrong before."

"You have good instincts Stabler, but this time you'll have to trust me. There's a storm coming."

"Yeh; the criminals are getting antsy since you stood up to Falcone. A lot of their activities are getting, how should I put this… less brazen."

"Not much, but it's a start. Your partner was at the docks with Falcone."

Elliot snickered, finding humor in pointing the Batman out on his mistake. "If you're talking about Cassidy, he's not my partner."

"But he was at some point?"

"Unfortunately; he moonlights as a low level enforcer, anything to spend on body jobs for his car or Elvis memorabilia."

"They were splitting the shipment in two, only half going to the dealers."

"Is that so?" Elliot said, his left eyebrow raised. "What about the other half?"

"Cassidy knows."

"He won't talk."

"He'll talk to us."

"Probably. Wait – us?" Elliot looked over to where the Batman was, only to see he was gone, not a trace left. "Just what I need, more of them running around." He threw up his arms in frustration and headed inside the house.

**A/N: Sorry to leave you with a cliffhanger, but I'll make it up to you with Olivia's big appearance next time.**

**How good of a team are Bruce and Liv? Seriously, they understand each other perfectly. It'll be more evident at the end of The Dark Knight during Bruce's emotional collapse.**

**Also, wouldn't Huang be a perfect Scarecrow. He doesn't have the humorous side like Crane does, but I get the feeling he'd be far more sinister. What do you think? **

**Did you notice the prison guard? He'll be back, but that's all I'm saying ;)**

**Please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: The moment you've all been waiting for has arrived. Olivia will be in action in this chapter. [Insert people carrying me with cheers].**

**For the batsuit, I'll be going with The Dark Knight design rather than Batman Begins, just as an aesthetic choice.**

**A little boy will make his appearance who will have a big significance later on. I'll give a shout out to anyone who can guess his identity. **

**I forgot last time to say this so here it goes. I wanted to show how badass the League of Shadows was since the movie only showed them being clobbered by Bruce, so I included the little scene on the ship. Plus, even the great Ra's al Ghul couldn't defeat the great Benson and Wayne, so I introduced Liv's eventual nemesis.**

**Disclaimer: Is Dick Wolf devastated that I've fired his entire writing and production staff? If he's not, I don't own either story.**

**Please review!**

Chapter 14: Scarecrow

"Ahh shit!" exclaimed Brian Cassidy, seeing the flash of lightning illuminate the patchwork of thunderclouds above him. He hated the rain; not because he didn't have an umbrella with him, which he didn't; not because the Narrows (where he was patrolling tonight) always collected stagnant water due to poor drainage issues, which it did. No, Cassidy hated the rain because of the water stains it left on his car, his baby. It killed him to see her (yes, it was a her) get dirty in any way. "Oh well, at least the tarp is up," he consoled himself, hearing the steady downpour assault the roof of the convertible.

Ever since the big bust three weeks ago, Cassidy had been trying to lay low lest someone rat him out to IAB. Most of the dreaded "Rat Squad" looked the other way when it came to dirty cops, for a price that is. He snorted at the irony of it all; corrupt cops hustling other corrupt cops, the Gotham Police Department's own protection racket fully within its own ranks. "Only in this cesspool of a city," he said to himself. However, much to his chagrin, the IAB Thought Police member assigned to watch over SVU was the notorious Ed Tucker, an asshole, but a clean asshole. Though he was out to get Benson and Stabler above all else, any member of the unit would be a worthy trophy to mount on his wall, so Cassidy knew that for now, low key was the way to play.

Speaking of Benson, he hadn't seen her pretty little ass at the 1-6 for a while now. It was a shame really; with all the time on his hands now that Falcone was twiddling his thumbs at County, he'd been hoping to use his naturally occurring charm to get her into bed. Sure, she played hard to get, but he knew she'd come around. "They all do," he told himself with a grin plastered on his face.

Feeling a rumble in his gut, Cassidy smacked his lips. "I think it's time to get some dinner baby," he said, patting the steering wheel of his car. He kept his eyes peeled for a food cart.

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"Ugh! The smug asshole even has a pet name for his car."

Hovering on the cheap tile rooftops that predominated many tenements in the narrows, Bruce narrowed his eyes, still visible even though ringed by his mask. "I can see what you mean about him."

"I don't get it," continued Olivia, eyes still fixed on their target through the black binoculars. "Why is this car such a hot commodity? Security system is a piece of cake."

Even though it was contrary to the very image of Batman, Bruce couldn't help but smirk at that. "Are you sure it was the security being crap, or the fact that the perp was using something built by Lucius Fox?"

Turning, Olivia shot him a Badass Benson glare, which in her current getup was even more intimidating than usual. He had a point though; while he was busy shooting the breeze with her partner, Olivia had snuck into the 1-6 parking lot and planted a digital bug into Cassidy's BMW, so that they could more easily track his movements and listen in on anything he said. 'First time I didn't need a warrant, and it felt good.'

Seeing her lips curl back into a predatory grin, Bruce decided to pry a little. "What are you thinking?"

"Just how fun it's going to be to interrogate that schmuck."

"Just remember, he knows your voice. Try and disguise it like I do."

Huffing, Olivia knew Bruce was right. With that menacing rasp, he sounded like a whole new person. "I'll keep that in mind."

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His hand rubbing the condensation off the inside of his window, Cassidy spotted a food stand selling something called a falafel. "Never had those before," he said to himself, but unlike Stabler, who would become an atheist before trying anything new, Cassidy wasn't picky.

The owner and operator, an Arab Christian from Iraq who immigrated to the US twelve years ago, was glad to have a customer. Usually with the workers coming home from the late shifts, the dinner rush was a profitable time. With the rain however, business was slow, and when business was slow his family suffered. "Hello sir," he called, smiling as he did to all customers, "What can I get for you?"

"Yah, I'll take a falafel, since that's all you got, and make sure it has extra onions got it?"

The owner did not like this guy at all, but forced a smile and said, "Coming right up." He mixed the fried chickpea into a pita pocket, scooping up vegetables, onions, and peppers and stuffing them snugly into the pita, creating a tight little sandwich. "Here ya' go sir," he handed it to the customer, averting his eyes for a moment to ring him up.

Taking a bite out of the food, Cassidy decided it wasn't that bad. Eying the tip jar, filled to the brim with bills and coins, he figured the other customers felt the same way. Smirking, he helped himself, reaching into the jar with a fistful of one and five dollar bills.

Noticing this, the owner grabbed a knife from the small sink and leveled it at Cassidy. "Put it back," he growled, pointing the knife straight at the thief's heart.

Smirking evilly, Cassidy reached into his pocket and flipped out his badge, laughing at the wide-eyed look on the owner's face. "I suggest you drop the knife," he whispered, enjoying himself immensely.

The owner complied, knowing how things worked in Gotham; he was already on the hook for ten percent of his gross income in protection fees to Darius Parker's organization. "Come on man," he groaned, going for broke. "I have kids to feed."

"What? They don't like falafel?" Cassidy chuckled and walked away into the street, heading for an enclosed alley to eat in peace (he wasn't about to get food crumbs in his car). Ducking into the alley, he found the perfect spot, an overhang jutting out from the back of a tenement. "No such thing as a free lunch my ass."

Jumping over a large puddle on the cracked pavement, Cassidy unwittingly stepped in a carefully concealed snare, which tightened around his foot like a vice. Jerked into the air, he was flipped upside down and rocketed skyward, screaming like a baby. Trying desperately not to wet himself, the nylon rope pulled him past the second floor of the tenement, then the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. He finally halted right in front of the seventh floor fire escape, dangling nearly fifty-six feet in the air, whimpering like a toddler and beseeching the Almighty God for his life.

"Open your eyes!" growled a firm yet oddly seductive voice. Unable to help himself, Cassidy complied and his fear was replaced with a smug smile. In front of him stood a woman dressed from head to toe in a sort of black suit of armor, looking formidable but still tightly hugging her obviously lithe and ample figure. A long black cape running down from her shoulders, the figure had a bat emblazoned on her armored chest and had a corresponding double pointed helmet which also covered her neck.

"Hey gorgeous," he said huskily. "This is pretty kinky. I like it!"

Reaching out and grabbing his collar with a gloved hand, she growled, "Where were the other drugs going?"

His smile turned into a self-satisfied grin. "Ooh, feisty, even better. Now I presume a happy ending comes with this." His grin disappeared when the rope, once taut, gave way and he began plummeting back to Earth. Screaming, Cassidy fell to the third floor before the rope stopped him and jerked him upward once more.

As he reached the seventh floor fire escape again, the woman was joined by another all-black figure, this time a man. "You don't want to piss her off!" he yelled in a raspy growl. "Now where were they going?"

"Suck my dick," replied Cassidy nonchalantly, pointing to the badge clipped to his belt. No one, especially an ordinary citizen, could give a detective in the GPD shit and think of getting away with it. He was answered with another plummet, this time to the second floor. While his pants were soaked by the rain, he could feel a warm wetness pool in his crotch.

When he was back in the hands of what had to be the so-called Batman, Cassidy was truly terrified. "We can do this the easy way or do you think this schmuck needs some more persuasion?" the female asked her partner, the once seductive, throaty growl now only causing terror to flow through Cassidy's veins. "Let's see how close we can get him to the ground without cracking his skull."

His arms shaking violently beneath his head, Cassidy pleaded with the two batpeople. "Ok, ok, I'll talk!"

He was violently flopping like a fish out of water. Olivia suppressed a snicker. Even after she punched him after the Tripley arrest, Brian Cassidy had never looked as pathetic and helpless as he did now; it was hilarious. Glancing over at Bruce, she nodded her masked head ever so slightly. Bruce nodded back, and once again faced their captive. "Talk!"

"I don't know where they go. They never told me, I swear to the Virgin Mother…"

"Swear to me!"

Once again, Cassidy plummeted back toward the pavement. With his bladder completely empty, all he could do was scream, the torrential rains only just masking them. As the ground grew closer and closer, Cassidy was sure his time had come before he stopped about halfway through the first floor, before the rope jerked him up again.

He came face to face with the Batman, who pulled him close by the hair. "You have one last chance," hissed the woman at the man's side, looking at her wrist, like at a watch. "But it's over in five, four, three, two…"

"Alright, alright, I never knew, never. They sent the shipments to some guy for a couple of days before sending it back to the dealers."

"Why?" yelled the Batman, a homicidal look in his eye. 'Damn, we make as good an interrogation team as me and Elliot do,' Olivia thought.

At this point, Cassidy was close to tears. "There was something else, something else in the drugs. Something hidden."

"What?"

"I never went to the drop off point. It was deep in the Narrows, in what they call the Black Hole. Cops, they only go there in full force."

"Do we look like cops?" Again, Cassidy fell to the warm embrace of mother Earth, this time sure of his untimely demise. The floors sped by as he accelerated, no pullback force from the rope slowing his descent. Just as he was about to hit the pavement, the rope tightened, stopping him just a foot above the ground. A few seconds later, it released him. Cassidy fell down with a thud on the wet asphalt, his back sprained in two places. Groaning, he looked up to see if his tormentors were still there. Nothing but the rain and the flickering streetlights looked back down at him.

"That was fun," Olivia remarked, grinning now that it was just the two of them. "But you do realize that I am a cop."

Bruce looked at her as if he was raising an eyebrow. "You're off duty, and besides, in that getup you definitely don't look like a cop."

"True."

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Tires causing a large ripple in the collected water by the curb, District Attorney for Gotham County Jack McCoy grabbed his umbrella from the backseat and stepped out of his car. Unfurling it above him, he braved the general downpour and proceeded cautiously toward the warehouse main office, shoes squelching on the waterlogged concrete underneath him.

Glancing over to his right, McCoy noticed the police squad car he had requested was in fact early, the officers probably enjoying hot coffee and donuts inside with the harbormaster. Shivering in the monsoon-like rain, McCoy could have gone for a nice hot cup of Joe. 'As long as it isn't the Commissioner's coffee,' he thought with a chuckle. John Munch's coffee was notorious in the entire Governmental, Law Enforcement, and Justice community as being one step above pond water in terms of taste (all it had going for it was heat).

Letting out a sigh, he knew where he wanted to be instead of here. The small velvet box bulged in his trouser pocket betrayed his real intentions. After this little evidence search was over McCoy planned to head over to Jamie's apartment and ask her to marry him. Despite having his heart broken by his ex-wife eight years before, he had found happiness with his EADA, and she with him. Jamie got along with his teenage daughter, and her little girl loved him like a father. The conflict of interest was moot since she was returning to private practice within the month. "Hopefully we won't have to face each other in the courtroom," he muttered, cringing at the thought.

"There you are Mr. McCoy," said Emil Baldan, the Harbormaster. "We was starting to think ya' wouldn't show."

"Can't get rid of me that easy," McCoy grinned, handing him a sheet of paper. "This, Mr. Baldan, is a warrant signed by Judge Taft giving the DA's office permission to search any containers sent in the name of Carmine Falcone." McCoy had no clue how Alex had managed to persuade Judge Taft to become a crusader against the mob (he vividly remembered the disaster that had been Eddie Skinner's parole hearing), but however she did it, he didn't want to know. If it came back to bite him in the ass, he wanted plausible deniability. "You have a container belonging to Mr. Falcone in the premises, isn't' that right?"

Baldan scanned the warrant, looking like a child having difficulty reading. "Yeh Mr. McCoy, we have one of those but I'm afraid it won't get you anything of value. It's just kiddie toys."

"Let me tell you something Mr. Baldan. The containership MV Malacca Prince left Singapore a week ago with 8,523 containers, but it arrived in Gotham City with 8,524 containers. I'm curious as to what Mr. Falcone is hiding."

"Sorry councilor, but established policy is not to inspect, impound, or in any way touch merchandise belonging to Mr. Falcone. Too many bad things have happened to people who did."

That was the understatement of the century, but McCoy wasn't daunted. "Well Mr. Baldan, things are different now. If you don't show me to the crate, I'll have the officers here arrest you."

The harbormaster looked scared by the mere mention of the word arrest. "On what charges?"

"What charges; how about Obstruction of Justice, Hindering Prosecution, Conspiracy, Possession with Intent to Distribute, it's up to you Mr. Baldan. Would you rather spend the night showing me evidence, or sitting in a cell at county?"

Sighing, Baldan opened the door that led into the container storage room. "This way gentlemen." He motioned for McCoy and the officers to follow him.

The warehouse gave off the distinct impression of a labyrinth, with the various containers forming the maze's walls which twisted and turned in random directions. It was a wonder that Baldan could find his way through this mess. Taking a deep breath, McCoy willed himself to calm down; soon, he would be out of this hellhole and hopefully in Jamie's arms after she said yes. Deep down in his heart, he knew that that was the only answer possible.

"Here we are Mr. McCoy, container number 025789," said Baldan, reading off a clipboard.

"Very good. Officer," he motioned to one of the uniforms, "please unlock it." The uniform trotted forward, a pair of bolt cutters in hand. With a sharp, metallic crack, the padlock was halved and the officer opened the container, the hinges creaking from saltwater rust. Pulling out a flashlight from the pocket of his blazer, McCoy stepped forward and leaned his head into the container, inspecting it. What he saw baffled him. He didn't know what to expect, but what the light illuminated was clearly not it. It was some sort of cuboid device of unknown use, but there was something stenciled on the front, a very visible WE. Squinting, McCoy read out the lettering underneath the logo, "Wayne Enterprises. What the fuck…"

His last thought was cut off when one of the uniforms shot him in the spine with a silenced Glock handgun. McCoy collapsed on the ground in a heap, blood pooling on the moist concrete. The officer stepped forward, firing two shots right in the head for good measure.

"Check his pockets," called Baldan, not wanting any surprises. Whoever brought in this container for Falcone was paying a good deal to make sure it was undiscovered, and Emil Baldan was not one to bite the hand that fed him.

"Look at this," said the second uniform, tossing the velvet box to Baldan. "Asshole was about to propose."

"Poor bastard," mumbled Baldan, eying the ring that the box contained. "It's a shame; this is really a nice ring. Alright lift him up. We're giving Mr. McCoy here a burial at sea."

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The rain had let up, but only slightly, with the downpour still heavy enough to reduce the usually busy streets in the Narrows to a mere one or two vehicles per block. For Bruce and Olivia, perched on the ledge of a Tenement deep in the central part of the island, the Black Hole as it was called by Gotham Natives, the current state of foot and cart traffic suited them perfectly.

"You see anything?" whispered Bruce, scanning the apartment used for dropping off the second batch of drugs. Back in WWI, soldiers in the trenches used lens periscopes to peek over the parapets so as not to expose themselves to enemy snipers. Now, ninety years later, the design was reasonably the same, except for the addition of digital cameras, night vision, fiber optics, and movable plastic joints. While not keeping with the tradition of the past, it made a handy tool.

"Hold on a sec," Olivia whispered back. As the detective of the duo, she was glad Bruce was relying on her experience with deduction. "Place is a pigsty. No real collection of drugs, but there are some of those stuffed bunnies we saw on the surveillance cameras at the docks."

Nodding at his partner, Bruce had one of those rare moments where he thanked himself for letting Olivia join him. She was truly one of the smartest people he knew, and growing up on the streets and laboring in SVU gave her strength, just like the League of Shadows gave him his.

On the fire escape to their left, a small Hispanic boy no older than ten climbed out of his apartment, sick of his parents' constant arguing. His father had come home from the bar drunk off his ass again, and his mother was having a fit. Sighing, he drew the attention of Bruce and Olivia, hands gripping the drainage pipes for support (the brick ledge was only half a foot wide). Noticing the black shapes to his right, the boy turned his head and was taken aback, the shock on his face quickly morphing into wonder. "It's you isn't it? Everyone's been talking bout you." he asked wide-eyed. Looking at Olivia, his grin grew wider, "And there are two of you. This is so exciting!"

His train of thought was interrupted by a shout from inside the apartment. "Nick! Get in here!"

"Don't you yell at him Alberto!"

"Fuck you Cesaria; I'll speak in any motherfucking tone I want!" The argument went straight into the gutter after that.

"The other kids won't believe me when I tell them," said Nick as if that was worse than having to endure a real-life episode of _The Jerry Springer Show_ back in the apartment.

Glancing at Olivia, Bruce saw her nod her head ever so slightly, a small smile on her face. Turning his head with a smirk, he folded the small camera back into its collapsible container and tossed it to the kid. With that, Bruce began his climb toward the target.

Only seconds behind him, Olivia took one last glance at the kid, who was beaming at his new toy. Seeing his happiness made her smile widely. "Take care of yourself kid," she said, disguising her voice similar to the tone she used with Cassidy, though not as terrifying, before climbing after Bruce.

The cheap windowpane was unlocked and open, so Bruce pushed it in slowly to compensate for the creak (while the rain would mask the noise on the outside, inside was a different tale entirely). Walking in, Olivia stepping on the ledge behind him, Bruce noticed that the apartment was as cold as outside, indicating that no one resided here more than a few hours. Shrugging it off, he poked around, searching for clues as to who was inspecting the drugs before shipping them back to the dealers.

Glad to be out of the downpour, Olivia took her own look at the apartment. 'Mother of God,' she thought, wrinkling her nose under the plate of her tight fitting mask. 'My apartment is cleaner than this shithole, and that's saying something!' Beer bottles and takeout containers littered the floor, with paper plates and cigarette butts adorning the tables and countertops. Shaking her head at the thought people could live like this (it still bugged her even with three years at SVU, seeing the hell of humanity's underbelly), an odd detail stood out. "Bruce," she whispered, walking over to a ratty armchair, "Were these the stuffed animals you found at the docks?"

Bruce walked over, studying a cheap, machine stitched bunny toy. "I think so."

"Hmm," Olivia responded, her brain set in detective mode. 'This must be where they kept the drugs,' she thought, fingering a slit in the toy's throat, finding nothing but cotton.

The sound of a key entering a door lock snapped them out of their inspection and set there alert state high. Bruce motioned with his hands for hiding places, to which Olivia nodded in acknowledgement. They each took cover, Bruce in a kitchenette, Olivia in a small closet, just as the front door opened.

Accompanied by four burly hired muscle, Dr. Huang looked over his alternate base of operations. Yes, it was time to relocate permanently back to Arkham, where he could at least count on being free of rats. "Alright gentlemen, get rid of all the evidence. I want no trace left for the cops to find."

"So you want us to torch the place," asked the lead goon, who was the brightest of the bunch unfortunately.

Huang's face remained impassive, "No, I want you to put up scented candles; yes I want you to torch the place." 'Where does Falcone find these men, a clinic for the mentally retarded?' As the men started spreading gasoline and lighter fluid all over the apartment, Huang noticed the sound of the rain was louder than it should have been. He glanced at the window, which was open. 'Odd,' he thought, switching on the gas dispersal cartridge he kept up his sleeve.

The youngest goon, a high-school dropout at the ripe age of nineteen, grabbed his can of premium unleaded and entered the master bedroom, the bed replaced with a large table filled with decapitated bunnies. Finding the sight somehow funny, he chuckled and sloshed the can around absentmindedly. Concentrating on his work, he didn't hear the figure creeping up behind him.

"Hey," murmured a feminine voice. The goon turned and was immediately knocked out and enveloped by the figure's black cape.

Another good, heeding nature's call, wandered into the filthy bathroom, setting the can of gas on the grimy sink. Unzipping his fly, he hummed while filling the bowl, the ache in his abdomen easing with every ounce excreted. Seeing a mirror to his left, he looked over and grinned, thinking he was hot stuff. He turned back to the toilet before another figure in black smashed his head on the mirror.

The sound of broken glass drew the attention of Huang and the other goons, who all turned and squinted at the bathroom, the lights unexpectedly turning off. Huang, his senses on alert, ducked into a dark corner, slipping on his trusty mask.

The head goon fumbled with his lighter, finally catching a flame just as Bruce hit him on the head with his gloved fist, causing him to fall. The other goon, panicking, reached for his gun before a sharp blow to his bicep rendered that arm numb. He wheeled around, his face running straight into Olivia's fist, breaking his nose.

Finished watching the one sided fight, Huang stepped out of the shadows. "Boo," he hissed through the mask, his dry voice made far more sinister by the mouthpiece, letting loose a large dose of the gas into Bruce's face. Bruce was immediately drowned in hallucinations, mostly of bats; they were flying all around him, seeping out of the floorboards, even emerging out of Huang's mouth.

Seeing Bruce collapse into a corner, Olivia charged at the hooded Huang, who calmly released the rest of his gas, a smaller dose than Bruce got. She was gripped by vivid memories of her mother, the punches and the slaps. "Oh, you brought a date to the party. Lay back," he said menacingly, shoving Olivia into the corner with Bruce, "Have a drink." He took a bottle of Vodka form the tabletop and doused them with it.

Trying desperately to get on her feet, Olivia jerked upward, reaching for her batons. The chilling laugh of Richard White echoed through her brain at that moment, breaking her concentration as she stumbled toward the window.

Bruce fared worse, wobbling forward, keeping himself between the frightening figure, now with bats coming out of his eyes, and Liv. A vivid memory of Skinner on that fateful night brought him to his knees.

"I haven't done couple's counselling in a while, but at first glance you two seem like a pair who takes things to seriously. In my expert opinion," he picked up the lighter off the ground and flicked a flame to life. "You need to lighten up." He tossed it onto Bruce, causing him to catch fire immediately.

Still consumed by the visions and hallucinations, Bruce was close to paralyzed despite the inferno growing on his suit. Visions haunting her very soul, it wasn't as bad for Olivia though, and with all the strength she could muster, she pulled Bruce out the window into the downpour outside.

They hit the ground with a thud, both patting themselves frantically to snuff out the flames. Her friend still overcome by the hallucinations, Olivia glanced around at the growing crowd of onlookers and bystanders. Hauling Bruce into her arms, they fled into an alley, the rain pouring around them. "You're just like him!" ringed her mother's voice, freezing her in place. "You'll never be good enough for anyone's love!" Olivia trembled, whatever the masked man had gave her starting to shut her down.

"Alfred," rasped Bruce, breaking her trance. "Call Alfred." Olivia nodded, thankful for her best friend and off-duty partner. Grabbing the grapple gun off her belt, she shot a line to the top of the tenement, knowing that they needed to get off the street. Feeling it caught on the cheap shingles of the roof, she hooked it to her belt buckle and his, hitting the release to pull them both up.

Bruce was in a daze, memories of his most horrifying experiences clouded with detailed hallucinations all around him. Looking up at Olivia, instead of her reassuring smile all he saw was the face of a monster. 'No! No! Don't think that way,' his mind fought back. 'It's Liv; it's only Liv.'

It all was a blur after that. He remembered being hauled onto the roof by Olivia… her pulling the com link off his belt… him whispering "poison," over and over again… being laid down, still fully armored, in the towncar… the memories of that day trapped in the well… his father's soothing voice, "Don't be afraid," … then blackness.

**A/N: Cliffhanger!**

**I know all of you were waiting for Olivia's appearance as Batgirl, and I hope this satisfied you guys.**

**A show of hands; who felt Cassidy got what he deserved? That many! [Insert shocked gasp here] You must hate him as much as I do. LOL!**

**Next up, dealing with the toxin, and Alex pays a visit to our favorite heroes at Wayne Manor before headed to, dun dun dum, Arkham!**

**Please Review!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hello all. If this chapter gets a little late I'm sorry; I've got an Organic Chemistry exam that is sucking the life out of me.**

**So in the last chapter, we see Liv in action (she kicks ass), and Huang/Scarecrow is getting bolder.**

**Just as a little tease, I'm coming up with some interesting twists and turns for TDK and TDKR. My lips are sealed though. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own either story, or this would have been on the big screen!**

**Please Review!**

Chapter 15: Welcome to Arkham

Bruce awoke to a blistering headache, as if all the hangovers he ever had were molded into one coupled with a blow from a sledgehammer. He opened his eyes to reveal he was lying in his own bed, in his own white undershirt and striped pajama pants.

A slight clinking of metal on glass sent sharp thuds through his skull. Using all his strength, Bruce tilted his head upward to find Alfred mixing a solution of Alka-Seltzer for him to drink. "Morning Master Bruce," he said, noticing his ward was awake.

"Morning Alfred," Bruce replied in a voice too low to be considered a groan. "How long was I out?"

"A little over two days sir. The little adventure you and Miss Olivia took was a Tuesday night; it's Friday morning now. Oh, by the way, happy birthday." Alfred gave him a warm, fatherly smile, handing him the glass, "Many happy returns."

"Look who's finally up!" chimed Olivia, striding into the bedroom gripping a mug of coffee, a wide smile plastered on her face.

Bruce winced, "Can you speak any louder? My eardrums are about to explode."

Olivia chuckled, lowering her voice several decibels, "Awe, poor baby." She sat down next to Alfred, Bruce noticing she was fully dressed in black slacks and a V-neck T-shirt, standard detective attire. "Drink up, you'll feel better."

Sipping the brew, Bruce grimaced, but his headache did feel slightly less pounding. Finding the strength to sit up, he asked Olivia, "So when did you get up Liv?"

"Yesterday afternoon." Her lips formed a slight grin, "Still always beating you, eh Bruce?"

Rolling his eyes, his brain turned to more urgent matters. "That drug, the one the man gave us in the apartment, I've felt the effects before."

Olivia's expression went from playful to serious, switching to cop mode. "Yeh, I've felt it too, sort of like those flowers you ground up that night in the cave."

A light clicked in Bruce's mind, "Yes, exactly; but this was something much more potent. A powerful hallucinogen weaponized into aerosol form."

"You two have been hanging out at the wrong clubs." From the secluded corner stepped out Lucius Fox, smiling softly. "I could excuse this behavior from Mr. Wayne, but from you detective? Tch, tch, tch," he chided.

"Hey!" blurted Olivia, starting to get defensive. "Someone had to save his ass. Sometimes one must take the bullet," she smirked, rising to shake Fox's hand. "What are you doing here Mr. Fox?"

"I believe that was my doing," replied Alfred. "I called Mr. Fox when both of your conditions worsened the afternoon following the incident. I felt a fresh pair of eyes were needed."

While Olivia sat back in her chair, Fox walked toward the edge of the bed. "I analyzed both of your blood, isolating the receptor compounds and the protein based catalyst."

Olivia gave him a puzzled look. "Are we supposed to understand any of that Mr. Fox?" She looked at Bruce. "Can you make heads or tails of it?"

"My mind couldn't get farther than 'blood.'"

"Relax you two, I don't expect you to. I just wanted to demonstrate to you how hard it was." Both rolled their eyes, causing Alfred to chuckle softly. Fox remained businesslike, "Bottom line, I synthesized an antidote to the toxin."

Bruce raised both his eyebrows. "I'm impressed; could you make more?"

"You two planning on getting gassed again?" Fox asked with a slight smirk. He was having more fun with these two than he did in his entire post-college life.

"Well you know how it is Mr. Fox," said Olivia with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Your idiot of a best friend," she sends Bruce a glare, as if saying "This is all your fault," before continuing, "Heads out looking for kicks when some lowlife starts passing out weaponized hallucinogens, forcing some smart, beautiful detective to go and get him out, exposing herself." She and Alfred laughed softly at Bruce's resulting impersonation of a "Badass Benson" look.

Fox chuckles as well, "I'll bring want I have. The antidote should be enough to inoculate both of you for now, with additional samples for anyone else who just so happens to be caught in this wild search for kicks." He turned to head out, lightly patting Alfred on the shoulder. "Alfred, always a pleasure to see you again."

"Lucius." Their guest gone, Alfred glanced at his watch. "Its ten thirty Miss Olivia. You don't want to be late."

Brows furrowing, Bruce stood up straighter in the bed. "Late for what Liv?"

"Thanks Alfred." She directed her attention to Bruce, "I'm stopping by the 1-6 for a couple of hours, say hello to everyone."

"First of all, you hate everyone there except Stabler, so say you want to say hello to Stabler; secondly, it's your vacation. Rest a while; you'll need it for tonight." He gave her the classic Wayne smirk, which she found oddly adorable. 'Adorable? Really Benson?' "My birthday party will probably get pretty rowdy."

She couldn't help but smirk back; he always had a knack for making her laugh. "I have no doubt about that, but I want to do some digging on the goons from Tuesday night; something was familiar about them, though I can't quite place it. I won't be long, trust me." She gave him a warm smile, one Olivia only reserved for those she was really close to.

"Be careful Liv. Last time I went there, someone found me out."

She leaned her head into the bedroom from the hallway, "Yes, but that someone knew you from the time you and her were in diapers, so I don't see the problem. Now get some sleep." With that, she ducked back out of sight.

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Sitting at his desk filling out the DD5 for a closed case, Elliot looked up to see an unexpected figure enter the bullpen. "Well there's a sight for sore eyes," he said, rising from his seat.

"It's good to see you El," replied Olivia, walking over and giving him a hug. "How's Kathy and the kids?"

"As perfect as they can be, as long as I can keep Lizzie and Dickie from killing each other." The two partners shared a laugh; Olivia felt like a big sister to his kids, and vice versa. "Anyway, you look different," he said, furrowing his brows.

She raised hers, slightly anxious (after all, she did discover Bruce in this very precinct). "Different how?" she asked him, adopting a miffed tone, going for female vanity.

"You look fit, more badass than before if it's possible."

Olivia couldn't help but grin widely; the training sessions with Bruce having obviously paid off. She hadn't looked in the mirror lately, but she assumed she looked both fierce and stunning at the same time. "I'll take that as a complement for your sake. How are things here at the 1-6?"

"Sort of quiet actually." Elliot couldn't help but laugh at the disbelieving look on his partner's face. "No really; ever since the Batman put down Falcone, the scum are sort of taking a siesta, giving us time to regroup."

"Well, seems like this fool has his uses after all," said Olivia, meaning every word (she knew him after all, and he was a fool).

A thought popped up in Elliot's mind. "There's a rumor on the street, the Batman might have a female partner."

Olivia stifled a grin, since it was an ego boost to hear about herself. "Really? So he found the one woman as stupid as himself?" 'Hell, I sometimes think I'm that stupid for signing up with Bruce.'

Laughing, Elliot leaned on his desk, "Apparently, though I personally think they're just trying to help."

"Trying to get in the way is more like it," she retorted. "These vigilantes should back off and leave the crime-fighting to the real cops." 'I am a real cop, so I'm technically not being a hypocrite,' she thought with an inward smirk.

Not wanting to argue the ethics of the Batman (or Batwoman or whatever the new one's name was) with his partner, Elliot changed the subject, "So Liv, what brings you here? I assumed that you'd spend your vacation time sleeping for sixteen hours a day between taking care of your mother."

She laughed hysterically, thinking of how much less sleep she received during the training period. Seeing Elliot's confused face, Olivia laughed harder. "Oh El, you can always make me laugh," she finally stammered between giggles. "I came today because I wanted to look over some old case files. My mom is doing better and I have a lot of time on my hands these days."

The answer seemed acceptable based on her partner's face. "Alright, but can I ask you a favor?"

"You can ask," replied Olivia coyly.

"Funny girl; seriously, we got a sly motherfucker in interrogation right now for a series of date rapes. Breslin and Cassidy have been going at him for seven hours straight and got nothing. Want to show them how it's done?"

"Always, though I want to be the bad cop this time." She had some new tricks she wanted to try out

Elliot raised an eyebrow, for he was usually the bad cop in their interrogations. "Alright." They made their way to the interrogation rooms, stopping at the third one. Through the one way glass, Olivia could see a subdued Cassidy and a red-faced Breslin going at a smug-looking college student, who seemed to be parrying Breslin's attacks with ease. Elliot tapped on the window, causing the two detectives to step out. "That was fun," called the suspect, "We should do this again sometimes."

"Asshole," muttered Breslin, his voice hoarse from the yelling. "He's all yours."

Smirking, Olivia turned to Cassidy. "Hi Cassidy; you look a little worse for wear." The detective looked at her with a subdued smile, only to follow his partner out into the bullpen. "What's his deal?" asked Olivia, who had an idea.

"He's been like that since Wednesday. It's fucking awesome," he grinned. Olivia grinned back, knowing that she and Bruce had gotten to him. "Shall we?"

"As always El," said Olivia, immediately donning a scowl and entering the room. "So Mr. Jacobs, why did you rape those girls?"

"I didn't," drawled the perp, the same smug grin on his handsome face. "They were perfectly consensual hook-ups."

Olivia deepened the scowl, "What are you afraid of Mr. Jacobs?" The room seemed to darken considerably, as if all the joy disappeared. The perp's smirk disappeared, replaced by a nervous frown.

"What do you mean," he croaked, suddenly afraid.

"Such a handsome face," growled Olivia in a voice resembling her mask one, but different at the same time. It even gave Elliot chills. 'When did she learn how to do that?' he pondered, staring at the now sweating perp. "It would be a shame for that face to be forced to go down on someone in the prison. The robbers and gangbangers sure don't like rapists." Her eyes, now almost black, stared deeply at the perp, turning his body to ice. "Is that what you are afraid of Mr. Jacobs? If it isn't, it should be."

That was the killing blow. "Alright, alright; I did it. I slipped those girls roofies. Please don't put me with those guys!" He started bawling like a baby.

"Pathetic," she scoffed. "Come on El."

Still somewhat stunned at her performance, Elliot hesitated for a moment before following her out of the room. "Wow Liv! Where did you learn to do that?"

His partner had transformed back into her cheery self. "A magician never reveals her secrets," she winked. "Now that the slime had been dealt with, I'm going to take a look at those files. Tell Kathy and the kids I said hi."

"Will do."

About fifteen minutes later, Olivia was leafing through dozens of dusty files of old cases, a white surgical mask on her mouth to prevent sneezing. 'Goddamn, they should clean this up once and a while,' she thought after wiping away the third cobweb of the day. "Here we go!" she yelled in triumph, pulling out a DD5. "Harry Baker, arrested for several counts of animal abuse. Sentenced for two months of outpatient treatment at Arkham Asylum." She looked at the picture, remembering that case; he was definitely the first goon that night in the apartment. Searching for another minute, she came up on the second file, the fourth goon. "Victor Tate, arrested for three counts of statutory rape. Found not competent to stand trial. Sent to Arkham Asylum." That was the connection; both were sent to Arkham.

Olivia scanned each DD5 for anything else connecting the two when she came upon a name. "Son of a bitch!" She just realized who the leader of the team had been, the one who gassed her and Bruce. "Both evaluated by Dr. George Huang, Director of Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane."

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"Welcome Miss Cabot, it's a shame we don't see each other more often."

"That's alright Alfred," said Alex Cabot, detaching herself from his hug. "I'll try to come more often. Just not tonight though."

"Are you sure you don't want to attend Master Bruce's party."

"Much as I would love to, I have to get back. Just make sure to give him this for me." She handed Alfred a small, gift-wrapped box.

"Alex?" Bruce descended the staircase with nothing but a bathrobe covering his pajamas, the classic playboy look. "I'm so glad you could make it."

She eyed him over, silently clicking her tongue. 'Nope, he hasn't changed a bit.' She smiled at him though, never unhappy with her childhood friend. "Looks like someone's been burning the candle at both ends," she quipped, taking in his bedraggled appearance. "Must have been quite an occasion."

He gave her a wicked grin. "Well, it is my birthday. You only turn twenty-nine once in your life."

"I know, and I would love to spend it with you, but I have to get back to the city."

Before Bruce could respond, a voice called from behind Alex. "Hey there cuz; It seems like years since I saw you."

Alex turned and smiled widely at her cousin and best girlfriend, "Come on, it's only been three weeks Benson." Olivia hugged her cousin, genuinely happy that the three of them were together again, just like the good old days.

"So Alex, you staying for the birthday bash of the century? Wouldn't want to miss Bruce make a drunken fool of himself."

"Much as I would love to see that," laughed Alex, earning a hurt pout from Bruce, "I just came over to give him his present."

Olivia looked puzzled, hoping for the three of them to enjoy the party together like they did while Bruce's father was alive. They had created havoc among the kitchen staff, switching drinks and stealing pastries. They usually got a scolding, but Alfred or Thomas Wayne always sipped them something sweet afterwards. "Why not?"

"Come on Alex; do you have better plans?" Bruce added, slightly jealous. He had just started to mend his relationship with her, after tearing it that fateful night seven years ago, only to lose her to some schmuck; it infuriated him.

"My boss has been missing for two full days, which in Gotham means I should call the divers to scour the South river."

"Hold on," said Olivia, thoroughly shocked, "McCoy is missing?" This was big, even for crime-ridden Gotham City. A DA was a high-level target and thusly was only trifled with for major concerns.

"Yep; he went to carry out a search warrant for one of Falcone's shipments but never got there, at least if you believe the patrolmen..." her train of thought was interrupted by the ring of her cell phone. "Alex Cabot… What? Who authorized that? Get Huang down there ASAP… also have our own specialist sent to give an independent evaluation." Bruce glanced at Olivia, whose face went slightly pale, not noticeable to anyone but him (they could read each other like the back of their hands), at the mention of Huang's name.

"Who was that," asked Olivia innocently, not wanting to give off her paranoia and fear for her cousin's safety.

Alex clicked off the phone, muttering profanities. "Falcone's been moved to Arkham on suicide watch. It appears the eminent Dr. Huang declared him mentally incompetent to stand trial."

That made Olivia's blood boil. "Even if you consider pedophilia a sick perversion, which I do, he's perfectly competent to stand trial. You have to fight this."

"I am; I'm heading to Arkham right now to give Huang a piece of my mind."

Sensing Olivia tense up again, Bruce quickly interjected. "Don't go to Arkham Alex. It's in the Narrows." Anyone who lived in Gotham could read the subtext in that statement.

"Bruce is right Alex, something's not right about this." She gripped her cousin's hand. "Wait till tomorrow, please."

While in a normal day Alex would have understood Olivia's silent plea, in her angered state she was having none of it. "Don't tell me how to do my job Liv," she spat, wrenching her hand away. "I can take care of myself; I don't need you to babysit me. Enjoy your party Bruce."

"Please don't go Alex." Whatever Olivia was trying to get through to her, he understood that it was probably of critical importance.

She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Some of us have work to do. Happy Birthday," she tapped the box and walked to her car.

While Olivia started pacing to calm her crazed nerves, Bruce opened his present, finding a note. "Finder's keepers." He lifted it and found the Indian arrowhead from that fateful day long ago; the last day of his childhood before his parent's death ripped it away from him, just him, Alex, and Olivia, carefree. A small smile spread on his face.

"Hello, earth to Bruce!" Olivia's tirade snapped Bruce back to reality. "We have to save Alex."

"I know she's going into the Narrows Liv, but what makes that more of a threat than what she faces every day?"

"You don't understand, Dr. Huang was the man that drugged us at the apartment. I checked the files on two of the goons; both were perps remanded to Arkham after Huang testified on their behalf. He's the guy Cassidy was referring to about taking the drugs. The hallucinogen was meant for him."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "So let me get this straight; Falcone sent the drugs hidden with what is most likely a weaponized hallucinogen to a drop off point in the Narrows, which was then picked up by Dr. George Huang, the director of Arkham Asylum. And Alex is going to Arkham! Shit!" He balled his hands into fists before a ferocious gleam appeared in his eyes, "I guess there's only one thing to do." He grinned.

"Suit up?" grinned Olivia back at him.

"Suit up," he concurred, and the two hurried up the stairs, a move not unnoticed by Alfred.

"Master Wayne, the guests will be arriving shortly," he reminded, keeping up with the two young people with a spryness unlike most men of his age; the habits learned while in the Special Air Service never truly went away.

"Keep them occupied Alfred," replied Bruce, as if it were simple.

"And how am I supposed to do that mind you?"

"Tell them that joke you know," smirked Olivia, tapping him on the back. Alfred just stood there in the hallway as the pair entered the study. He shook his head in frustration, 'Great, you've rubbed off on both of them.'

Less than one minute later, Bruce and Olivia were in the Batcave, their minds switched fully on fight mode – well, almost. "I don't think this is what they meant when they invented his-and-hers cabinets Bruce," quipped Olivia, though her face remained serious.

"True," replied Bruce in the throaty rasp of the Batman, "But they never imagined a couple like us before."

A warm feeling spread through Olivia's heart at that statement, only to disappear as quickly as it came. She reminded herself that she and Bruce were best friends and partners, nothing more. 'Why are these feelings coming though?' It was very confusing.

All thoughts of feelings went out the window though as both opened the cabinet doors, revealing a neatly stacked full-Batsuit in each one. "Well Liv," asked Bruce once they were fully dressed, pointing to their vehicle. "Shall we?" He was answered by a vicious grin from Olivia.

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After returning from Wayne Manor, Lucius Fox sat alone, as usual, at his desk tinkering with the antitoxin he had developed for his boss. Figuring Mr. Wayne and Miss Benson would drag several unwitting innocents into their little mess, he felt that it was better safe than sorry.

"Good evening Lucius. Having fun?"

Fox turned his head, and to his surprise saw his old friend and the man responsible for his exile to Applied Sciences, William Earle. "Bill?" he said good naturedly, for it wasn't in his nature to be anything but gentlemanly. "What's a big shot like you doing in a place like this?"

Forcing a smile, Earle couldn't disguise the fact that he loathed his former friend. Back when he first took over the company following Thomas Wayne's departure, Earle saw to it that Fox continually rose through the ranks, his brilliant analytical mind securing patent after patent for Wayne Enterprises. However, six years ago, Fox (at the time Executive VP) sunk a lucrative arms deal that Earle had painstakingly negotiated with the Venezuelan Government, costing the company half a billion dollars. Feeling betrayed, Earle sacked and banished Fox to AS, the two barely speaking to each other since.

Now though, Earle was actually savoring this meeting. 'Let's get the business out of the way first.' "I need some information about a project of yours," he flipped open a file, skimming through it for the name. "Item 47-B, ME-1A, one of your early ideas, built by the Weapons Division."

Fox took the file, his brows furrowing with intrigue and horror (though he easily controlled his expression). "ME-1A. That's a microwave emitter, designed to vaporize an enemy's water supply during sieges." He remembered the transfer forms for that exact one on his desk three weeks ago, and it gave him the chills. "I heard a rumor, that Weapons tested the device to disperse water-based chemical agents into the air, but isn't that a contract violation, not to mention illegal in the United States, Israel, Australia, and the UK. I presume those are the only clients authorized to purchase the weapon?"

Stifling his anger and frustration at his friend's righteousness and patriotism, Earle took off his reading glasses and folded them in his suit pocket. "I want all the available information on this project sent to my office, including all data, files, backup disks, the works."

"Did you lose one?"

Smirking evilly, Earle decided to drop the bomb. "I'm merging your department with Archives, and I'm firing you, Lucius." Seeing and enjoying his former friend's shocked face, Earle decided to rub it in. "Didn't you get the memo?"

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Towering over the usual dilapidated tenements of Narrows Island (aka The Narrows), Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane was ironically one of the few well-kept, aesthetically pleasing buildings that dotted the island. Done in a high gothic, brick motif, the building resembled a cross between a 12th Century French cathedral and a turn of the century brick textile mill, which would normally be tacky, but worked for Gotham's Loony Bin, as the nickname went.

It never ceased to give Alex Cabot the chills, and she had been there dozens of times. The reception area was plushy decorated like a Victorian town house, a stark contrast to the whitewashed cell blocks housing the most deranged individuals the city had to offer. Right now though, she was too angry to be creeped out. "Where is Dr. Huang again? You said on the phone that he would be here."

The receptionist typed something on her computer. "I'm sure he's running a little late ma'am. If you would please have a seat…"

"No I will not have a seat. Find Dr. Huang and tell him that if he doesn't get here in five minutes I'll have a warrant on your desk before you can say reasonable doubt!" Unlike Olivia, who would go "Badass Benson" on someone at the slightest provocation, Alex saved her temper for when she was on the job.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," said the impassive, calm voice of Dr. George Huang, walking in through the front gate in a well-pressed suit. "I give the sincerest apologies for my tardiness Miss Cabot, but you have to admit this is highly irregular."

She wasn't buying any of his bullshit. "I admit nothing Dr. Huang, now take me to see Falcone."

"I have nothing further to add to the report I filed with Judge Taft. I presume your office received a faxed copy?"

"I saw the report, and now I want to see the prisoner myself," replied Alex, her expression saying "Don't fuck with me."

"Very well. Follow me please."

Carmine Falcone was strapped to a chair in a padded cell, doing nothing but twitching, glancing around himself anxiously, and muttering the word "Scarecrow," over and over again.

"As you can see Miss Cabot, Mr. Falcone is suffering from acute onset psychosis, with an underlying delusional disorder. It's all in the report."

Alex was skeptical to say the least. "Isn't it convenient for a fifty-two year old man with no history of mental illness to have a complete psychotic break just before jury selection in his racketeering and sex trafficking case?"

Not breaking the impassive, smug smile, Huang quipped, "I see nothing convenient about his symptoms Miss Cabot."

Turning her head back to Falcone, he continued to mutter that one word, almost like a child whimpering during a nightmare. "What's scarecrow?"

Huang spoke like reciting form a medical text, "Patients suffering from delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor. These are usually confined to Jungian Archetypes such as the Devil, the trickster, or in Mr. Falcone's case, the scarecrow."

"Is he drugged?"

"While I do prefer therapy to drugs in certain cases, psychopharmacology is one of my primary fields that I have had the pleasure of broadening once I left the FBI." He turned to face Falcone as well, oblivious to the two masked figures listening in to their conversation through the wall. "It's ironic no; outside he was a giant. Here though, only the mind can grant you power."

Despite his obvious attempts to hide his true emotions, Alex could read Dr. Huang by using his statements. What she deduced was a very disturbed individual. She couldn't tell if he was dangerous though. The real mind reader in the family was Olivia, and she was still at Wayne Manor. "You enjoy the reversal."

"I have a healthy respect for the mind's power over the body; it's why I took up this occupation after my Law Enforcement days. I can help the people who suffer rather than just reading their thoughts."

"I do what I do to keep thugs and perverts like Falcone behind bars, not in therapy," she spat, storming to the elevator. "I want our own psychiatric consultant to have full access to Falcone, including blood work and medical history; I want to find out exactly what you did to him and why."

"First thing tomorrow then. I'm sure we could all use a good night's sleep," remarked Huang amiably as the elevator door opened.

"No, tonight," Alex said, earning a raised eyebrow from the good doctor. "I've already paged Dr. Hendrix at Gotham General. She'll be here momentarily."

Knowing what needed to be done, Huang reached into his pocket and inconspicuously pulled out his master key. "As you wish Miss Cabot," he said, silently turning the lock to take them to the basement.

"Why are we in the basement?" asked Alex, completely confused.

"There's something I want you to see; this way please," replied Huang, motioning to two battered wood doors. Alex followed Huang, making disgusted glances at the hallway. With the cheap concrete walls and dust, it looked like the set of a Halloween movie, quite unlike the immaculate upper floors.

Huang opened the doors, holding them ajar for Alex to walk in. What she saw chilled her to the very core. She was standing on a balcony, looking down at a subbasement workshop. Guarded by Uzi and Makarov toting guards, inmates wearing surgical masks were hard at work. Some were mixing large vats of chemicals, while others were pouring buckets of said chemicals into a ripped open water main, the goopy substance washed away by the running water. It was a nightmare.

"This is where we make the medicine," said Huang, his normally impassive voice laced with amusement. "Maybe you should try some." Alex turned and hurried off. "It could clear your head." She couldn't see Huang's evil, self-satisfied smirk.

She booked through the hallway, not stopping for anything or anyone. Jumping into the elevator, she rapidly hit the close door button until the box complied. Smacking every floor she could find, Alex panted, more afraid now than any time in her life. Suddenly, the doors flew open to reveal a man in a menacing mask spray her with some kind of aerosol gas, which immediately distorted her vision.

Two of his goons carrying her down the stairs, the still masked Huang motioned for them to lay the shaking Alex Cabot on a cheap table. Huang glanced down at her, the masked face staring menacingly. Feeling the ultimate power trip, Huang began his interrogation. "Who knows you're here?" Alex twisted, the look of pure fright in her eyes. "Answer me!" She looked back up only to see a face covered in maggots screaming at her. She let out a wail.

Abruptly, all the lights on the ceiling went out at the same time, the room illuminated by the ground floor lighting only. The guards cringed, automatically crouching. Huang removed his mask, running a hand through his spiky hair. "They're here."

**A/N: Cliffhanger! Don't kill me.**

**Just a few parting notes, I wanted to put in one more scene with Olivia the SVU detective, plus show how badass she is with Bruce's training. In addition, I'm sowing the seeds for a little romantic tension between our two heroes. It won't happen any time soon, not with Bruce's love for Alex, but don't worry my pretties, trust me.**

**Next, a battle and a Batmobile.**

**Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: What's up my faithful readers? **

**So where we left off, Bruce and Liv are in Arkham, trying to save Alex from the hands of Huang/Scarecrow. This will get interesting.**

**Just as a reminder, remember Cassidy's car; it'll be important in this chapter.**

**A note on the geography of Gotham, I'm making it like New York City, but with the river running from west to east instead. The Narrows Island is about the size of Harlem on the north side of Gotham Island, while Wayne Manor is on the south side.**

**Disclaimer: If NBC still is in business, then I don't own either SVU or TDK Trilogy. You all know what I feel about them. They should sell SVU to (I'm being serious!). Who wants to start up a collection?**

**Please review, send a PM, and/or send this story to your friends on this site. Just a suggestion **

Chapter 16: Chase That Tank

"They're here," whispered George Huang, the rare glimmer of emotion crossing his face. This was defiantly going to be an interesting experience for the doctor, and he liked interesting.

His guards were puzzled and scared at the same time. "Who's here, the cops?" one asked.

"Nope, the Batman," smirked Huang, enjoying the looks of his men as their curiosity turned to pure dread. "Plus, he's likely brought his little girlfriend."

"Wait a minute; you're saying there's two of them?" one guard stammered in a Brooklyn accent, not believing what he just heard come from his boss' lips.

"I know for a fact there is."

The guard looked like he was about to wet himself. "Oh God!" he whimpered. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" The rest of his words were a nonsensical jumble of fuck, Christ, and mommy. The rest of them weren't as bad, but each clutched their guns tighter, using all the strength they had to keep control over their bladders and sphincters.

"So what do we do Doc?" asked one of the more level-headed guards, his gaze not wavering from the now pitch black upper levels.

"What any normal civilian would do when a couple of prowlers enter their home. We, gentlemen, are going to call the police."

That got the guard's attention. "What? You want to bring the cops here, with all the shit lying around? That's signing our own death warrants." As a former top soldier for Falcone, he knew police procedure in and out.

Huang shook his head. "Au contraire my skeptical friend. At this point not even the Army could stop our plan, let alone the Gotham City Police Department. The Batman and his girlfriend though, in addition to crushing people's skulls, have a talent for disruption. You fine gentlemen force them outside, the police will take him down, it's as simple as that."

"What about the blonde," asked another guard, motioning to the shaking form of Alex Cabot.

"Don't worry about her, for she hasn't got long. I gave her a concentrated dose. The mind can only take so much before madness sinks in, then she'll be of no use to anyone." He looked at the men. "Well don't stand there like you're catatonic, go, go!"

"The things they say about them, can they really fly?"

"I heard they can disappear, like those weird lizards in the jungle."

"My brother says they can shoot flames out of their hands."

Huang gave the darkened ceiling one last look, his normally impassive eyes twinkling with excitement. "Well, we'll know soon enough. Now get to work gentlemen, we have two pests to exterminate."

Fanning out, keeping in pairs, the guards proceeded to climb the metal staircases toward the second floor, a haphazard collection of concrete floors connected with sheet metal bridges. Safeties on their Uzi submachine guns and Makarov pistols were switched off, and tension was high. At the smallest noise, each man swiveled their weapons in its direction, not taking any chances. Despite their fear, fire discipline was maintained, for these were the hardened men trained by Victor "The Enforcer" Gitano himself for the Falcone Crime Family. However, even with all the training in the world, these men were facing an enemy they didn't fully understand. Thusly, they were jumpy, and in their hyper agitated state, these men weren't as effective as they should be.

A group of three, each man facing a different direction so as to cover all routes of attack, entered one of the concrete floor areas. A light squeak to the upper left made all abandon the tried and true formation and point their guns in its direction. Taking advantage of this lapse in judgment, Olivia dropped down from the rafters and brought down the stun device on her wrist on the first guard's right shoulder. Gasping in pain, Olivia quickly took him down with well-placed blows to his ribs and neck.

Hearing the commotion, the second guard swiveled his weapon around, but his fright gave a three second delay. Grasping the Makarov still in the grip of the first guard's paralyzed arm, Olivia shot the second guard in the foot, toppling him as well.

The third guard was much more vigilant. Raising his Uzi, he prepared to squeeze the trigger at Olivia when a second figure dropped from the shadows above. Taking a running leap, Bruce lifted the guard, carrying him screaming into the rafters, Olivia following not two seconds later. Soon, after the furious round of fighting and gunshots, an eerie silence descended on the basement.

Their will breaking, the remaining three guards booked for the main floor of the basement, seeking refuge like groundhogs in a burrow. One of them was midway down one of the staircases when he heard a thud behind him. Turning, he caught a quick glimpse of Olivia before she brought her baton on his wrist, eliciting a loud cry while the Makarov dropped to the floor. Wheeling around, she brought the second baton dead center on his temple, knocking him, unconscious, to the basement floor. With that, she disappeared back into the darkness.

Stepping over the body, the final two guards kept their Uzis close, knowing that the 600 rounds per minute the gun could spit out was their best chance at survival.

They had not figure the Batman into that equation. Leaping from the top balcony, capes whooshing from the air resistance, Bruce and Olivia began to fight the two guards, more difficult than before due to their opponent's size (both were virtual Andre the Giants) and quick reactions. Olivia struck fierce blows with her batons, but the guard's brute strength was making knocking him out harder than the others.

Bruce, on the other hand, brought down his opponent with strategically placed blows to the head and torso well before Olivia finished with her enemy. Huang, still wearing his Scarecrow mask, was watching the fight play out underneath one of the staircases. Seeing the guard slump unconscious onto Bruce, he seized the chance and darted out, spraying the Batman with his gas, convinced that it would work like the in last confrontation.

When the Batman didn't collapse like before, Huang tried to back away. Snarling, Bruce grabbed his wrist with a death grip, yanking off the mask to reveal Huang's grinning face. "Looks like you're having fun," Bruce growled. He turned his head to Olivia, "Go, check on Alex. I'll take care of this asshole." Twisting Huang's arm, which was still connected to the gas cartridge, Bruce released the spray on him. "A taste of your own medicine Doctor?" Huang coughed, his vision distorting immediately. Bruce lifted him up, pinning him to the wall, "What have you been doing here? Why?" Bruce already knew the first part, but that question was related to the second. Huang only stared back, wild-eyed. In the place of the Batman, an all-black monster, oozing tar, was what he saw.

Running to her cousin's side, Olivia took a close look at Alex. She may not have been a doctor, but eleven years as a cop gave her not too shabby skills in evaluating injuries. Alex was taking deep, but shallow breaths sort of like a fish out of water. Her eyes were wide one moment only to flutter quickly the next. Remembering the effects of Huang's toxin, Olivia concluded that Alex must have received a dose far larger that she or Bruce had that night. 'If she doesn't get help soon, she's done for.'

"Who are you working for?" growled Bruce again, determined to get an answer out of Huang. 'I have a new respect for Liv; getting confessions without resorting to violence must be damn hard.'

Gasping, Huang answered the monster, "Ra's… Ra's al Ghul."

The answer hitting him in the gut, Bruce did a momentary double take. 'No, it can't be.' "Ra's al Ghul is dead! Who are you working for?"

Huang looked at him with those same wild-eyes, before the pupils constricted somewhat. Fighting the drug's effect on his mind, the doctor managed a small smirk. "Dr. Huang isn't here right now, but if you would like to make an appointment…" Bruce snarled and slammed Huang's head against the wall, knocking him out.

He walked over to where Olivia was kneeling beside Alex. "How is she?"

"Huang gassed her with a strong dose. We need to get her the antitoxin ASAP. What did Dr. Douchebag say?"

'You have such a way with words Liv.' "He said he's working for Ra's al Ghul."

Olivia's eyes went wide. "Ra's al Ghul? As in the League of Shadows' Ra's al Ghul? I thought you killed him."

"Apparently not." Just then, they both heard the sirens of the police Huang called to the asylum.

"Shit," breathed Olivia, running a hand over her cowl. "They're probably securing the perimeter, waiting for SWAT to come up."

A light clicked inside Bruce's head. He lifted the semiconscious Alex in his arms and headed for the stairs. "I have an idea."

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In the event of a particularly dangerous situation, the Gotham Police Department had a master plan for such a scenario, and they were executing it on the double. Over half a dozen squad cars converged on the front driveway of Arkham Asylum, spreading out to cover all possible exits. Crouching behind doors or bumpers, the officers aimed their sidearms and Ithaca 37 shotguns at the main entrance, not taking any chances. Each man had heard rumors about the Batman, and now that he might have an accomplice made the treat extra dangerous.

As the senior officer on the scene, Detective Lenny Briscoe pulled out the bullhorn. "Alright Batman, the jig is up. You are surrounded. You and your partner better come out with your hands up, or we will take you down!"

"I don't think that's going to work Lenny," said Elliot Stabler, getting out of his sedan. "We are dealing with the Batman after all."

Briscoe sighed, "You're probably right Elliot; if these shmucks are anything like my ex-wives, they ain't gonna listen to me." He scowled at Elliot's chuckle. "A word of advice Stabler, never get divorced. Look at you and me; you get to go home to a nice house with your wife and kids, while all I have to look forward to are used takeout containers and dirty dishes."

"Your living accommodations sound a lot like Olivia's. Don't worry Lenny, I'm not planning on leaving Kathy." The low growl of a high-performance engine drew his attention. "Speak of the devil," he spat, seeing Cassidy slide out of his BMW. "You brought that thing here Cassidy?"

Not letting Stabler ruin his good mood, Cassidy grinned. "If you go anywhere, you should go in style. Besides, we're going to finally catch the Batman and his bitch partner tonight." He couldn't wait to get those two into an interrogation room and dish out payback for Tuesday night.

"Well Cass, we're not going in just yet," said Briscoe, making sure his classic Smith & Wesson revolver was loaded. "I'm not sending anyone in without backup."

"Backup?" Elliot stifled a smirk, for Cassidy wasn't the sharpest tool in the drawer. That title belonged to Liv, with himself not far behind.

"Yeh, you don't thing old Munchies would send any of us after the Batman without SWAT covering our asses. Their on the way, though if you want to go in, be my guest."

Though he talked tough, when the chips were down, Cassidy was a coward. "Well, SWAT's on the way." He shrugged and leaned against one of the squad cars.

Elliot on the other hand, didn't want the Batman taken down by his own side. Something about him from the other night (plus from the break in at the 1-6) made him trust the Batman. Plus, he was curious about the mysterious partner. Unholstering his SIG Sauer pistol from his belt, he proceeded up the steps into the asylum, despite Briscoe's pleas to return. Something wasn't right about the situation, and his twenty-one years as a cop said to trust his gut.

The normally bright hallways and foyer for Arkham were now dark and deserted, the employees having bugged out once the alarm was set. It reminded Elliot of the cheap horror films he used to take Kathy to back in high school. 'Well, I am chasing after two dangerous individuals in masks. Can't be that different from that.' Reaching the main staircase, he crept slowly upward, constantly checking his corners; a reckless cop usually became a dead one, lesson one in the academy. The loud patter of boots in the distance alerted Elliot that SWAT had arrived, but his knowledge of GPD procedure told him he still had plenty of time. SWAT was meticulous, and never took any risks; it would take nearly a minute to reach the staircase, while Elliot arrived in less than twenty seconds.

Suddenly, a cloaked figure landed just behind Elliot, lifting him up using a rappel line. Looking at the figure's face, Elliot noticed that it wasn't the muscular form of the Batman, but rather a lithe, graceful female. 'So the rumors were true.' "I presume you are the Batman's famous accomplice," he said.

Olivia rolled her eyes subconsciously at her official partner. This blunt attitude was classic Elliot. "I suppose you could say that," she growled, being sure to mask her voice. To her everlasting relief, Elliot didn't seem to recognize her.

As SWAT reached the stairway, Olivia dragged Elliot into the top floor landing, where Bruce knelt beside a shaking Alex. Elliot, seeing their ADA limp on the ground, rushed over to her, kneeling on the dusty tile. "What's wrong with her?"

The SWAT team slowly ascended the stairs.

"Huang poisoned her with a psychotropic hallucinogen, a panic inducing toxin," rasped Bruce, not mincing words.

Elliot wrapped his coat around the still trembling ADA. "I'll get her down to EMS; they'll take her to Gotham General."

"Won't work," said Olivia, crouching beside her unofficial partner. "They can't save her, but we can," she declared, remembering the vials of antitoxin Fox had given them.

Just then, all the lights in the building turned on, illuminating the stairwell for the SWAT team. Reaching under his boot, Bruce pulled out a device from his heel and clicked it on, filling the air with a high frequency screech. "Get her downstairs," he ordered. "Meet us in the alley on the Narrows side."

Outside, Cassidy and the other cops heard a loud fluttering, growing more and more intense by the second. Looking puzzled, they were unaware of the storm about to hit; his nearly forty years of instincts kicking in, Briscoe ducked inside his sedan, closing the door. He didn't know what was coming, but damned if he was going to be caught out in the open.

"Falcone's been smuggling in the toxin for Huang hidden in his drugs," said Olivia to Elliot, bringing him up to speed. "The good doctor's been dumping it into the City's water supply."

Stunned beyond belief, Elliot ran his hand through his close cropped hair. "Son of a bitch; what was he planning?"

"We don't know."

"Was Falcone behind all this?"

Olivia looked over at Bruce; he was more qualified to answer this, since he had interrogated Huang and knew the stated employer. "He mentioned someone else, someone worse." From what Bruce told Olivia about Ra's al Ghul, she knew he was right. "We have to get her out before the damage becomes permanent."

Nodding his head, Elliot's ears were consumed by the growing fluttering sound. "What the hell is that?" Olivia gave Bruce a sidelong glance, wondering the same thing.

"Backup."

Cassidy squinted, making out what appeared to be a huge swarm barreling towards them. "Motherfucker!" he yelled just as thousands of bats enveloped the asylum grounds, enveloping the assembled police and SWAT officers, making any movements impossible.

Lifting Alex up bridal style, a simple feat for one with such strong muscles, Elliot hurried down the stairs just as the bats burst through the windows, rendering the indoor SWAT team useless. Keeping his head down, Elliot continued with the semiconscious Alex, booking for the main entrance.

"You are always full of surprises aren't you?" quipped Olivia, looking down at the swarm of her fellow brethren below, both bat and GPD.

"Well," replied Bruce, walking over to the railing with the sound maker in hand, "You surprised me that night three weeks ago. Think of this as me returning the favor." Olivia couldn't help but smirk as he chucked the device down the stairwell, causing the swarm to follow it.

Wrapping themselves in their capes, Bruce and Olivia jumped from the railing, plummeting toward the floor below, both surrounded by screeching bats and panicked SWAT officers. At the last second, the two tensed up their gloves, the memory cloth of their capes straightening out into a wing like Fox promised. Hitting the ground with no more than a thud, they ran into the inmate cell block, the crazed looks of Huang's most nutty following them the entire way. "Ok, so how do we get out of this cheery place?" asked Olivia, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"With this," Bruce replied, removing a grenade from his belt and lobbing it at one of the cell doors, blasting the lock to smithereens. He stepped in and lobbed another one at the far wall, blowing a passage to the alley. "Excuse me," he said to the bored looking inmates.

Shaking her head at Bruce's new found reliability (most of the time she knew him, her best friend was quite absentminded; he once forgot his pants and it took her and Alfred to remind him), Olivia stepped through the new passage, giving the inmates her best "Badass Benson" look. "Don't even think about it!" The two just looked at each other, too high on prescription meds to have any clue as to what was happening.

The bats still tying everyone up outside, Elliot found it quite simple to sneak past the perimeter with Alex in his arms. Reaching the alley, he looked around for a moment before hearing a loud explosion coming from the wall of the asylum. "I should have known that's how you would make an entrance," he shouted as the Batman and his partner walked out.

"How is she?" asked Bruce, taking her from Elliot.

"She's fading fast; we need to get her out of here pronto." He looked at the street, not noticing that his two guests had headed in the opposite direction. "I'll get my car."

"We brought ours," shouted Olivia.

Elliot furrowed his brow. "Yours?" His question was answered when a large, all-black armored vehicle zoomed straight past him, heading for the main street. Two patrolmen, still in their squad car, watched as the Tumbler shot out of the alley, running right over Cassidy's BMW, smashing it like it was made of cardboard. Unhindered by the now pulverized obstacle, Bruce, Olivia beside him in the gunner's seat, pushed the throttle forward, speeding down the bridge, three sector cars in pursuit. "I gotta get me one of those," grinned Elliot.

"It's heading down the Fifth Street Bridge south into the city," hollered one of the patrolmen into the radio.

"Make and model," cackled dispatch.

"Subject is in a black, uh… tank!"

Running up to the scene, Cassidy stared at his now wrecked car, jaws wide open. "What, but, huh?" he mumbled, hands on his head in shock as he fell to his knees. "Nooo!" he whimpered, his body raked with sobs.

Elliot strode over and smugly patted his former partner's shoulder. "Remember what I said Cassidy, you reap what you sow." Cassidy was too overcome by grief to hear that.

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Lying in the weapons officer's seat, Olivia glanced outside at the buildings of City Island itself. Behind the Tumbler were three sector cars going full out, sirens wailing. 'So this is how it feels to be the perp,' she thought, remembering her own experiences with high speed chases. She had gone through three, twice as a uniform, once as a detective, and now her fourth was as the criminal. She glared at Bruce, as if saying, 'What did you get me into?'

To his credit, Bruce was fully concentrated on the road, expertly weaving and dodging the civilian cars, all while followed by the police. "What do you suspect the plan is now?" he asked her, relying on her expert advice.

Olivia felt her ego somewhat boosted by that. "Well, they'll keep at least five vehicles on our tail, while trying to erect blockades in our path. Procedure is to use spike strips, but this baby is armored against them." Unexpectedly, Bruce put the Tumbler in a wide arc, turning east on Linseed Street, causing Olivia to grip onto the seat to steady herself. "As I was saying, if Munch gets desperate enough, he could bring out the Bearcat SWAT vehicles and force us off the road. Just so we're clear, I'm not shooting at any police cars." Those men and women were her brother's in blue, and there were standards.

"I'm not planning on it," said Bruce, giving Olivia a reassuring smile.

Behind them in the rear seat, Alex was starting to come out of her catatonia. Noticing this, Olivia shifted and looked back at her. "Easy sweetie, take deep breaths and calm down."

Alex stared, blinking rapidly, the sight in front of her constantly flickering and blurring. "Where – where am I?" she gasped, her heart rate starting to increase.

"Stay calm," replied Bruce, his voice a deep but subdued rasp. "You've been poisoned."

"Heads up!" yelled Olivia, seeing two sector cars form a barricade at the next intersection. Banking right, Bruce avoided the barricade and swung onto 8th Street, the Tumbler showing the grace of a car much lighter. Passing through Middle Park, the searchlight from the chopper overhead illuminated the cabin, casting a bright light over the three passengers. Alex, thinking the beam was some sort of death ray, let out a scream. "It's alright," said Olivia, reassuringly taking her cousin's hand. Keep your nerves under control. You've been given a drug."

"I'm on him!" called out one of the sector cars forming a new barricade further south. "This'll stop ya'" he smirked triumphantly, snaking a spike strip across the street.

"Spike strip!" Olivia prayed that Fox had armored the tires against this sort of trauma, but it proved moot when Bruce turned the Tumbler into a public parking garage, smashing through a wooden divider. The parking attendant stared slack jawed before shrugging; in Gotham, you got used to seeing strange things, although this one took the cake.

"Where'd he go?" asked dispatch, having lost visual on him from the chopper.

"He just made a big mistake," said one of the uniforms, slightly bummed; this had been the most fun he had in twenty years.

"What are you doing?" asked Olivia, surprised Bruce was stupid enough to trap them in an enclosed space.

"Shortcut."

"How is this possibly a shortcut?"

Bruce smirked, the seriousness of the situation belied by the need to show up his best friend. "Trust me."

The Tumbler sped up the spiral ramp, four sector cars keeping close behind. Reaching the top floor, which was open air just as Bruce planned, he spun the vehicle around and backed it into a spot prominently labeled **compact car only**. The officers rapidly set up their latest barricade, confident they had him now. "Batman and company!" called out Detective Mike Logan, the lead officer on scene. "Exit the vehicle and put your hands on your head."

'Great, I'm company now,' thought Olivia acidly. Suddenly, Bruce turned to her, "At your go, smash the divider ahead of us."

"Wha…" Just as Olivia was about to ask the obvious question, Bruce hit a switch causing both their seats to lean and pitch forward into slight crevices in front of them, Alex watching in a mix of terror and awe. "_Weapon's system activated_," chimed the robotic voice of the Tumbler's computer, the various guns and rockets deploying from their internal bays. 'Right,' Olivia realized, having done numerous drills back in the Batcave.

Switching to the Mark 19 grenade launcher, Olivia aimed and fired two grenades right at the concrete divider straight ahead, turning it into rubble. Gunning the engine, Bruce accelerated the Tumbler, speeding passed the barricade toward the edge of the building. "Hold on." He pushed the red button on the throttle, activating the booster rocket, launching the Tumbler into a rampless jump right onto the next building, crushing air shafts and pipes. 'Elliot would have loved this.'

The officers following on the ground were stunned. "Who is this guy, and give me the number for his car dealership," remarked one.

"Where is he?" asked dispatch.

"He's on the roof," replied the officer.

The dispatcher took off his headphones and rubbed his ears, thinking she'd heard wrong. "Which street is he on?"

"You don't understand, he's flying on the rooftops," yelled the officer, who wouldn't have believed it himself if he wasn't seeing it.

A massive air conditioning unit directly in front of him, Bruce angled the Tumbler in a tight turn, the rear of the vehicle hanging slightly off the edge of the building, smashing several chain link fences. Spotting another concrete wall, Olivia let loose two salvos of the Mark 19, turning it into dust. Manic paranoia setting in, Alex clutched to the vehicle for dear life as Bruce used the booster once more, hurtling the Tumbler onto the uneven shingle roof of the next building, heading for 5th Street.

Dropping with a thud onto the busy east-west thoroughfare (the closest thing Gotham City had to an internal freeway), the Tumbler took it in stride, quickly recovering. The chopper still overhead, Bruce gunned the engine, heading onto Lower 5th. Olivia shook her head both of them pitching backward into standard configuration, "You'll get boxed in."

"First, no passenger seat driving; second, we won't." He motioned to the sirens behind them. "They'll be."

Sitting in his sector car, Fin Tutuola picked up his radio. "I can't tell you if I've seen it unless you tell me what it looks like." As if by magic, the Tumbler raced past, three police cruisers hot on its tail. "Never mind."

Ahead, a bus pulled sharply to the right, blocking the eastbound lane. "Hold on!" yelled Bruce to both Liv and the still manic Alex as he swerved in a U-turn, tires skidding on the concrete roadway. Coming to a stop, he floored the throttle, the Tumbler barreling westward, six cruisers in pursuit. "Take care of them," he said to Olivia.

"Sorry about this guys," she said to herself, reaching for the release switch. Deploying it, Olivia watched in the rearview monitor as a dozen anti-vehicle mines littered the street. The first two cruisers hit the mines, one flipping over on its side while the other flipped vertically in the air. She cringed at the damage, vowing to make Bruce answer for this later.

Seeing an off-ramp for I-278 (the beltway that ran around City Island) ahead, Bruce swerved onto it at the last minute, causing the third cruiser to crash into the divider, the engine block crumpled. From the six that had begun the chase, three were left.

The buildings gave way to the tree lined woods that predominated Gotham's South Shore, the affluent area of the city. The chopper keeping a watchful eye overhead, Bruce realized that he would have to take drastic action to evade them. Hearing a panicked gasp from the back seat, he looked over at Olivia, who was checking on Alex. "She's getting worse," his partner said, a concerned frown on her face.

He judged that now was the time. Flicking a switch, the Tumbler went into stealth mode, all lights shut down. "Shit!" yelled the chopper pilot, "I lost visual." He scanned the ground, seeing nothing; the all black paint job that Bruce custom ordered was pretty good at night camouflage. "Ok guys, stay on the road and keep a sharp eye out. He couldn't have gone far."

Sensing the cost was clear, Bruce glanced back at Alex, looking straight into her eyes. "Stay with me," he said, his voice filled with compassion. He sped up, pressing ahead of the cruisers.

Seeing a black shape to his left, Fin snatched his radio. "There he is; he just passed me."

Knowing the jig was up, Bruce flicked on the headlights, swerving onto an off-ramp for a country road, the cruisers following him. Once there was a concrete divider separating them from the freeway, Bruce smashed through it, the Tumbler pulverizing its way through as if it were papier-mâché. 'My cowl off to you Mr. Fox,' thought Bruce and Olivia at the same time.

The cruisers had a far worse time of it. Unable to break through the concrete, they skidded to a stop, not wanting to damage their vehicles. Enough cruisers had been damaged for one day. Sighing, Fin lifted his radio, heart starting to return to its normal rhythm. "One-L 19, we lost him. The Batman got away." He shook his head and smiled. 'Guy's got skills.'

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After breaking through three gates and a guardhouse, Bruce had guided the Tumbler unseen to the dirt track that led to the Batcave entrance. In the back, Alex's paranoia was replaced with a trance-like state, the effects of Huang's toxin starting to take over her mind like with Falcone. "She's fading!" shouted Olivia, scared out of her mind.

"Hold on!" Bruce pushed the engine as far as it could go, rocketing toward the waterfall that masked the cave.

The grip on her mind growing stronger by the second, Alex's eyes rolled back in her head as she slipped into catatonia. "Shit!"

Bruce hit the booster and turned. "Alex!" The Tumbler shook as it hit the water, reaching its destination.

**A/N: Wow that was intense. I could really feel the excitement while writing it. **

**I've been wanting to write the scene with Cassidy's car for a month now! Do you guys like it as much as I did? I really hate that guy; why dick Wolf made Liv be with him instead of Elliot I can't fathom.**

**That's it for Fin in this story, but we'll see more of him in the sequels.**

**Next up: There ain't no party like a Bruce Wayne party cause a Bruce Wayne party is flamin'!**

**Please Review and share with your friends!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hey again, everybody. The exams are taking a break for now, so I have time to write **

**Where we left off, Bruce and Liv have gotten Alex into the Batcave, while a party is going on upstairs. Huang is captured, but something is going to happen.**

**Just to say, I'm making the League of Shadows (with the exception of Ra's al Ghul), quite arrogant. While Bruce was a former member, Olivia was never initiated, so they won't see her as much of a threat initially. This will make sense for what's coming up.**

**In addition, I know all of you can see the feelings for Bruce slowly creep up for Olivia; it'll be only small things for now, since the real emotional drama will come when I do The Dark Knight. Here though, I'm going to start with Bruce's emotions (he'll still be broken, but not as much since Liv is there), and may I say that the undercurrent in TDK will be a little different, but still kick-ass.**

**Disclaimer: If you don't see the Joker fighting Elliot and Olivia Stabler every Wednesday night, I don't own either story. Come on guys; just thirty million dollars and we can liberate SVU from Dick Wolf; who's with me?**

**Please review and share with your friends.**

Chapter 17: Back From the Dead

The bats finally dealt with (which was a miracle in and of itself), Elliot Stabler had brought in the entire CSU and tech team to Arkham to test the Batman's theory. It wasn't as if Elliot didn't trust him (for some reason he trusted the Batman's partner more, though he couldn't put a concrete reason forward), but as the great Ronald Reagan once said, trust but verify.

The basement was swarming with CSU, all taking chemical samples, photographing evidence, and inspecting the three open water mains that ran through the middle of the room. Elliot glanced around and found the head guy, Ryan O'Halloran. "What do we have?"

O'Halloran looked up from the giant hole in the reinforced concrete foundation, a chemical sensor device in his left hand. "Well Sergeant, I talked with the water company representative; this pipe runs into the central main that services the entire Narrows. If they put the toxin in, which by my initial analysis of the water proves they did, then it would have spread all over the city, bypassing the main treatment plants."

"Fuck," groaned Elliot, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. He wished Olivia was here; though Briscoe was a good friend and even better cop and Cassidy was in a state of catatonia over the loss of his "Baby," the only person that could calm him down outside of his family was Liv, and he didn't really feel comfortable working with anyone else. Sighing, he motioned to the dozens of empty chemical containers strewn around the basement. "How much of this shit did they get into the mains? If they did we'll need to call the water company to try and isolate the affected areas…"

"You don't understand Elliot, they put it all in. Based on my readings, with the saturation level in the mains, they must have been at it for at least two months. Gotham's entire water supply is laced to the top with this toxin."

Elliot furrowed his brows, angry and confused at the situation. 'I've drank tap water in the last two months; shouldn't I look like Falcone right now?' He cleared his throat and continued, "Why haven't we felt the effects yet?"

Shrugging, O'Halloran stood up. "You'll have to ask Warner about the specifics since this isn't my area of expertise. In my opinion though, the toxin is probably absorbed through the lungs, so drinking or bathing with it wouldn't be dangerous."

"Alright, thanks Ryan. Keep up the good work." Elliot walked away, his mind racing. 'The entire water supply! Shit!' The mains that ran through Gotham (the hub underneath Wayne Tower), serviced the entire tri-land area: City Island, Narrows Island, and the entire mainland within two miles of the city center, the South Country included. And they were all laced with the vicious toxin.

Thinking further, Elliot's mind flashed to something the Batman said, about someone worse than Falcone being behind all of this. While he couldn't think of a way for an airborne toxin to be released trough the water mains, the thought that it might happen chilled him to the very core. Taking out his cell phone, he hit speed dial one.

"Hello," said the voice at the other end.

"Kathy, are you guys ok?"

He could almost envision his wife's smile on the other end. "We're better now. This was certainly a pleasant surprise; I thought you were on call for the night?"

"I am, but listen Kathy; take the kids and go to your parent's house." They lived ten miles outside the city limits, and therefore were safe.

"What?" his wife replied, genuinely shocked at the urgency in his tone. "Why?"

"Kathy please. I can't divulge anything, but something big is about to go down, I can feel it. Please just go to your parent's, I'm begging you."

Sensing the protectiveness in his voice, Kathy relented. "Alright Elliot; we'll be on the road within twenty minutes. Just stay safe."

"Always will, bye Kath." He hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. With his family out of harm's way, he could pay attention to the crisis at hand.

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Crouching on a ledge about five feet from the table where Alex lay, Bruce gazed at his friend, lost in thought. He remembered that moment before entering the cave, when she had collapsed into catatonia. The feeling of horror and fright that had shot through him, God he was afraid to lose her. Alex was his last connection to who he once was, all the innocence before all the shit that Skinner, Falcone, and the League of Shadows threw upon him; losing her would mean losing both the woman he loved and the self he once was.

Hearing a slight crumble of stone to his right, Bruce turned his head to see Olivia crouch next to him. Her cowl still covered most of her face, but he could still see her reassuring smile and comforting brown eyes. At that moment, he was deeply thankful that she had found him that first night nearly four weeks ago. Unlike Alex, she had been through horrors so much similar to his, and as a result shared his pain and resolve. Bruce recalled the events of an hour before, when he had brought the Tumbler to a halt in the Batcave. While he grabbed Alex, carrying her bridal style to the table, Olivia rushed over to the workstation, where Alfred had left the container of antitoxin sent from Fox. They worked so well as a team; if Alex was his innocence, then Olivia was his watchful partner, the one who always had his back.

Five feet away, Alex Cabot groggily opened her eyes, a strange cacophony of running water and animal screeching confusing her already cloudy mind. Her head pounding like a jackhammer, she looked above her, discerning what looked like bats flying and nesting above her. 'Bats?' she thought to herself.

"How do you feel?" asked Batman, noticing Alex was finally awake. Alex looked to her side and saw the two masked figures, the one that saved her that night four weeks prior and a second, obviously female one.

"So there's two of you now?" she asked weakly, her normal snarky attitude while questioning someone drowned out by the effects of Huang's toxin.

"Somewhere safe," replied the female, picking up where the Batman left off. 'They have great chemistry as a team,' thought Alex, her prosecutorial perception gradually coming back with Fox's antitoxin coursing through her veins.

"Why did you bring me here?" she croaked.

"If we hadn't," growled the Batman in an oddly reassuring tone, "Then your mind would have been lost. You were poisoned and only we possess the antitoxin that could save you."

The memories of the last twelve hours came rushing back into Alex's head. "Huang, it was Huang…" She tried to stand up but groaned with pain, the drug still having some potent aftereffects.

The female rushed forward, stopping her from getting up further, "Rest Miss Cabot. Stabler has Huang in custody. He can't hurt anyone ever again."

Alex visibly calmed down and laid her head against the table. "You know Sgt. Stabler? Is he your friend?"

"In a manner of speaking, though we don't have the luxury of building close relationships."

"Here," said the Batman, walking to his partner's side, "I'm giving you a sedative to mitigate the aftereffects of Huang's toxin. When you wake up, take these." He handed her two glass syrettes, filled with a clear liquid. "Give these to Stabler, only Stabler. He's the only one we can trust with them."

"What are they?"

"The antidote to the poison. One is for Stabler to inoculate himself, the other is for mass production."

"Mass production?"

"Huang was just a pawn in a far greater plot against the city. We just have to find out what it is, but for now, sleep." He injected the sedative and watched as Alex drifted off into a calm sleep, her mind at ease.

Sighing, Bruce turned away, staring at the flowing water inside the cave. Feeling the detached loneliness of his seven year venture creeping back, he removed the mask, running a hand through his dark brown hair. God, he was just so tired.

"Bruce?" He felt a soft hand on his neck; turning, he noticed Olivia, her mask off as well. She gave him a smile, their eyes engaging in one of their many silent conversations. 'I know what you're feeling, for I have been the same way. Don't worry Bruce,' she seemed to say, 'You'll never be alone again.'

Bruce smiled, the tiredness leaving. He knew that if he ever broke, and in this line of work it was a distinct possibility, he knew that she would always be by his side. That alone made the difference. "Come on," he said, tugging her hand, "Let's see what Alfred's up to."

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Exiting the elevator onto the third floor, Elliot looked to the left and saw Dr. Warner talking to the GPD's head shrink, Dr. Emil Skoda outside Falcone's room. Striding over, he extended his hand. "Melinda, Dr. Skoda," he said, giving each a firm shake. "Have you got anything regarding the toxin Huang prepared?" He knew from the Batman and his partner that it was some kind of crippling hallucinogen, but after that his mind drew blank.

"Yes Elliot," replied Warner, who was a close acquaintance from the 1-6. "I don't have the blood work done yet, but from the looks of things Huang was working on a potent psychosis inducing drug. A large dose has the ability to render the victim permanently insane, like our good friend Carmine Falcone." She smirked and pointed at the former terror of Gotham, strapped to a gurney and muttering "scarecrow" over and over again.

Elliot's mouth curved upward slightly at the thought that Falcone was out of commission permanently. He would have preferred a trial, but losing one's mind to the devil forever sounded like an even better punishment for his crimes. "So you're sure Huang gave him the toxin."

"Oh absolutely," interjected Skoda, a bald man with a deep baritone. "Carmine Falcone was as sane as you or me up till this Tuesday when Huang was called to County. Now though, he's showing the classic signs of a complete psychotic breakdown. Other than the rare acute-onset disorder, the only viable explanation is an environmental cause. We'll know for sure when the blood work gets back."

"The attempted suicide? Pulling a Munch?" All three chuckled at the GPD slang for spouting crazy theories.

"As we all thought before Sergeant, those were probably an attempt for an insanity plea. I'll have my office look through all of Huang's cases; it's likely they'll be overturned and the defendants sent for trial."

"Thank god for that," shouted Elliot, thinking of Victor Gitano. Liv was going to jump for joy when he told her. "So did Huang get a dose too Melinda?"

"Yes Elliot, but he seems to have some sort of immunity to it. The toxin is making him very paranoid and edgy, but he's in shape for you to interrogate." Grinning evilly, Elliot shook their hands once more and headed for Huang's cell, determined to get the truth.

The good Doctor was in a straitjacket, propped up in a padded chair. He was mumbling to himself, and taking paranoid glances every few seconds, but Melinda had assured Elliot that he was sane, so he went on in. "Evening Dr. Huang," he said jovially.

Huang looked up, his eyes shifty but his mouth the same impassive smirk he always wore. "Scarecrow," he whispered, in what either could have been a delusion or a correction. Elliot groaned inwardly. 'First the Batman and his partner dress up in costumes, and now the bad guys are doing it too, that's just great!'

Sitting at the bench in the room, Elliot picked up the burlap mask, fiddling with it. "Scarecrow huh? Sounds like a piece of bullshit by someone a little off his rocker. I know you couldn't come up with all of this on your own Huang! Who are you working for Huang?"

Staring at him for a moment, the smirk growing into a fiendish grin, Huang went back to babbling nonsensically.

"Tell me you motherfucker, how were you planning on getting the toxin in the air? What is your employer planning to do?" If this guy was bad enough to terrify the Batman, he must have been pretty damn scary.

Meeting his eyes, Huang dropped the crazy bit, his face stone sober. "Oh it's too late Sgt. Stabler. You can't stop it now. He's just too powerful." The mouth resumed it's ever present smirk.

Elliot gave him his own evil smirk. "Enjoy rotting in County for the rest of your life. I'm sure it won't be long for the other prisoners to make you their bitch." He threw the mask on the floor and stormed out, seeing if he could find more clues in the basement.

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Heading for the study while fiddling with his bowtie, Bruce found Alfred waiting for him with pursed lips and a dour gaze. "Evening Alfred. Are the guests comfortable while they eagerly await my arrival?" he said with a smirk, hoping to ease the tension.

Alfred was having none of it. He was concerned for his ward, and when he believed that Bruce did something stupid, he was not going to stand by and do nothing. "When you told me of your grand plan to save Gotham Master Bruce, and once again regarding Miss Olivia when she entered this little scheme, the only thing that kept me from calling the men in white coats was when both of you reassured me that it wasn't about thrill seeking."

"Well Uncle Alfred," interrupted Olivia, entering the study while fixing an earring. "Other than Cassidy's car," she tipped Bruce a wink, "It isn't." Olivia couldn't help but laugh at the picture of Cassidy's face when he saw the car. She wished she had been there to see it.

"Oh really?" scowled Alfred, getting quite annoyed by the two. "What would you call that?" he shouted, pointing at the TV. It was a broadcast of the Gotham Evening News, running footage of the high speed chase involving the Tumbler.

Bruce, glancing at the screen nonchalantly, merely replied, "Damn good television."

Olivia smacked him on the arm, laughing. "You can say that again."

"It was a miracle no one was killed!"

"We didn't have time to observe the rules of the road Uncle Alfred," said Olivia, puckering her lips to apply the reddish-brown lipstick that Alex said complemented her eyes.

"I'm worried about you two; I see both of you sinking deep inside this joint monster of your own creation."

"We are using this monster," replied Bruce, getting slightly irritated at Alfred's persistent nagging, "To help other people just like my father did." He looked over at Olivia and saw her nod in agreement.

"But for Thomas Wayne, helping others was not about proving anything to anyone, including himself."

"It was Alex Alfred," said Bruce, looking his butler and father figure in the eye. "She was dying. She's currently downstairs sedated and I need you to take her home. Let's go Liv." The both of them started to walk toward the stairs.

"All of us care for Miss Alex sir, but with due respect to you Master Bruce and Miss Olivia, your endeavor cannot be personal. It has to be beyond that, or both of you are nothing more than vigilantes."

Sighing, Olivia knew that Alfred had a point, but right now there were more urgent matters. "Is Mr. Fox here?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Then we need to talk to him ASAP."

A thought came to Bruce; if the League of Shadows was behind all this, then everyone here was in danger just by being close to him. "And we need to send these people away, the sooner the better."

Alfred silently seethed, for he couldn't let the little boy he raised alone throw away his entire life apart from a mask. "These are Bruce Wayne's guests sir. You have a name to maintain!"

"I don't care about my name Alfred!"

"It's not just your name sir," pleaded Alfred, not about to back down. "It's your father's name, and it's all that's left of him. Don't destroy it."

Bruce was about to retort when he felt a soft, feminine hand on his shoulder. "Come on Bruce," said Olivia, "A couple of hours mingling with Gotham's high society wouldn't hurt anyone," she said with a grin.

Not resisting the urge to smile back, Bruce noticed what she was wearing, a dark red gown that hugged her lithe curves better than her suit did, with a slit mid-thigh to the ankle. "You're feeling eager tonight only cause you'll be the life of the party," he said, walking down the stairs with her.

"And what about you Mr. Wayne? You look pretty dashing yourself. I bet there are several high society girls who will go crazy over you." A slight flutter escaped her heart, confusing and scaring her at the same time. 'Get it together Benson! There's a madman out loose trying to pump a hallucinogen into Gotham! Stop feeling this way.' Outwardly, Olivia cleared her throat and scrambled downstairs as quickly as her heels let her, winking back at Bruce so as he wouldn't be worried.

Reaching the reception room, Olivia hollered in her best cop voice. "He's coming everyone!" As the birthday boy entered not one minute later, she led the room in a song. "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Bruce! Happy birthday to you!"

"And many more!" she finished, laughing at his humble expression.

"Thank you, thank you," Bruce called to the assembled guests. Olivia by his side, he picked up two glasses of champagne and handed one to her.

"You are quite the gentleman Mr. Wayne," she said, patting his upper arm.

"Well Detective Benson, you do tend to bring out the best in me," he replied, causing her to blush slightly. They were interrupted in their banter by William Earle, striding toward the pair with a sincere smile on his face. "Mr. Earle, glad you could make it." Bruce shook his hand warmly, only Olivia being able to tell that it was completely fake.

"Happy birthday Bruce. And who is your enchanting companion?"

"Oh where are my manners. This is Olivia Benson, a detective with the Gotham Police Department and my oldest friend. Liv, this is William Earle, President of Wayne Enterprises."

Olivia shook Earle's hand, getting a bad vibe from him. "Nice to finally meet you Mr. Earle. I read our profile in Fortune Magazine; your business strategy in taking WE public was a masterpiece."

"Why thank you Detective Benson. It's always a pleasure to meet an admirer," he replied with a slightly smug expression. 'Yep, I definitely see what Bruce sees in this douche,' though Olivia, outwardly smiling; she'd been on enough bad dates to fake enjoyment.

"While we're on the subject, how'd the stock offering go? I've been kind of busy these last few days," Olivia had to suppress a giggle (only Bruce could make Badass Benson giggle; it was fucking annoying yet oddly nice at the same time). "So naturally, I haven't been paying much attention to the financial news."

Earle chuckled, "That's alright Bruce; we've handled it quite well. The prices soared, nearly quadruple the initial value."

"Who's buying?"

"A whole bunch of charities, funds, brokerages, and the like. It's all a bit technical; the point of the matter is our company's future is secure."

While Olivia worked hard to suppress a gag, Bruce smiled awkwardly and raised his glass. "Great; a toast to Wayne Enterprises."

"Here, here," said Earle.

"I'll drink to that," remarked Olivia, only sipping part of her glass. When he was out of sight, she leaned into Bruce and whispered in his ear, "What an asshole."

Grinning, Bruce turned to look her in the eye, "I know what you mean."

She mimed pulling her hair out, "It infuriates me that now you can't kick him out on his ass and put someone competent like Fox in charge."

"Who said it was too late," he said with a sidelong smirk.

Olivia raised an eyebrow, "What are you planning?"

"I'll never tell," he grinned mischievously, earning himself an eye roll. "Come on, let's mingle and then find Fox."

Outside, Alfred was trying mightily to guide Alex in the back of the Rolls with as little discomfort as possible. Though his service in the British SAS had made him both strong and resourceful, his age had crept up to him in recent years (born in 1936, he would be 67 in a few weeks). Doing his best, he managed to gently lay Alex in the back seat, only hitting her head once against the golf set left back there.

Looking up, he noticed some of the kitchen staff on smoking break giving him a weird stare. Putting on his best smile, he merely replied, "A little the worse for wear I'm afraid." The two employees looked at each other for a moment, and then went back to smoking. Shaking his head in frustration, Alfred closed the driver's side door and headed off to Alex's apartment only ten minutes away. "What I won't do for those two," he muttered.

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After shaking hands with yet another pompous high society couple where the wife looked down at Olivia while the husband couldn't stop staring at her ass, the duo finally found the man they'd been looking for. "Mr. Fox," said Olivia, walking up toward him, Bruce not far behind.

"Miss Benson, Mr. Wayne, so nice to see you, and happy birthday by the way," he said with a smile, which Olivia could tell was genuine. "Give you're complements to the chef, because this roast beef is heavenly."

Bruce smiled at Fox, "I'll be sure to tell him thank you, and thank you personally for that item."

Wiping his mouth with a dainty cocktail napkin, Fox swallowed the piece of beef he'd been chewing on. "You're welcome. I knew you two would put it to good use."

"We already have," added Olivia. "How long would it take to manufacture on a large scale Mr. Fox?"

He thought for a moment. "Weeks, why?"

"Someone's planning on dispersing it through the water supply."

"No detective," Fox said, shaking his head, "The water supply wouldn't work for an inhalant, unless…" Bruce and Olivia watched as Fox's eyes widened in realization.

"What?" asked Bruce, suddenly anxious.

"Unless you had a microwave emitter powerful enough to vaporize all the water in the city's mains; a microwave emitter like the one that Wayne Enterprises misplaced early last week."

"Misplaced?"

"Earle just fired me for asking too many questions, like 'Why was it being sold even though none of the approved clients had ordered it?'"

Olivia looked at Bruce, having one of those silent conversations with her eyes. 'Didn't I tell you?' Bruce nodded slightly before turning back to Fox. "I need you to go back to Wayne Enterprises and start making more of that antidote. The police," he gestured to Olivia, making her smirk, "Are going to need as much that they can get their hands on."

"My security clearance has been revoked."

"That shouldn't stop a man like you could it?" Olivia quipped, patting him on the shoulder.

Fox grinned softly. "I suppose not detective."

"Bruce," called over some friend of a friend of a board member's cousin. "There is someone you simply must meet," she said, practically dragging Bruce with her, leaving Olivia alone by the refreshments table. Looking back at her, the Lady wouldn't take the hint and kept talking, "Now am I pronouncing it right? Mr. Ra's al Ghul?"

Bruce's head swiveled around, eyes wide. The man, his head turned away, slowly faced him. "You're not Ra's al Ghul. I watched him die."

"But isn't Ra's al Ghul immortal?" a voice said from behind him, suddenly sending a chill down Bruce's spine. He turned around and saw the smiling figure of Don Cragen, his mentor and teacher of three years. "Are his methods, supernatural?" he continued, tapping his shoulder with his ivory handled cane.

Olivia was staring at Cragen too from afar. He looked exactly like Bruce's description: tall, gentlemanly, completely bald, and with a well-groomed, short, but thick salt-and-pepper beard. 'This is going to be bad.'

Bruce stared into Cragen's eyes, the picture becoming clear. "Or cheap parlor tricks to disguise your true identity Ra's."

Smirking slightly, Cragen stepped forward so only the two of them could hear, "Certainly, a man who spends his nights jumping over the rooftops of Gotham with his female police friend, wouldn't begrudge me dual identities." Seeing a shape move to Cragen's left, Bruce looked to find a graceful black woman about an inch taller than Olivia, wearing a dark grey pantsuit and her frizzy hair tied in a ponytail. Her features exuded fierceness, like a panther or a cougar; her eyes meanwhile only gave off a raging contempt. "Where are my manners? Bruce, this is Monique Jeffries, my newest student. She still has much to learn, but she also hasn't tried to destroy our new headquarters."

"I saved your life."

"I warned you about compassion Bruce. You have betrayed us by not only renouncing your ways but also bringing an outsider into the fold." Bruce knew he meant Olivia, and by the way Jeffries' eyes lit up at that, she was enraged by the mere thought. 'She is going to be a tough opponent.'

Taking a quick sweep of the reception room, seeing Olivia staring straight at them with her senses on alert, Bruce turned back to Cragen. "Your quarrel is with me. Let these people go."

"You are welcome to explain the situation to them."

Determined to save his guests, even at the cost of his own reputation, Bruce put on a drunken smile and raised his glass. "Everyone!" The room grew quiet to listen to the birthday boy. "I just want to say," he drawled with a slight drunken slur, "Thank you for coming here tonight, and for drinking all of my booze." Even with his apparently inebriated state, the natural Wayne charm won over a round of genuine laughter. "In all seriousness, there's a thing about being a Wayne, that you don't have to go far to find a couple of freeloaders, like you fine people, to fill up your mansion on short notice."

"That's enough Bruce," cautioned the Chairman Emeritus, trying to stop this train wreck before it started.

"No, I'm not finished…" Olivia stared intently at her friend, knowing him well enough to notice he was putting on an act. Apparently this Ra's al Ghul was more dangerous than she thought, and her senses were now in overdrive. "To all of you phonies; you sycophantic suck-ups who come in here for a good time at my expense, just leave me in peace. Seriously, stop smiling, go. This is not a joke, get out." For a brief moment, his eyes locked with Olivia's, sending a message meant for her and her alone. 'Please go Liv. It's not safe.' "The party's over, leave."

'Ok,' her eyes shot back, leaving with the rest of the shocked and confused guests. "The apple has fallen very far from the tree Mr. Wayne," said the Chairman Emeritus angrily, heading for the door. Bruce just stood there, his eyes noticing the half-dozen stern-faced men staying where they were, the determination on their faces betraying their membership in the League of Shadows.

"A valiant, amusing, but inevitable futile effort Bruce, for none of these people have long to live. You and Olivia's antics at the asylum have forced my hand." said Cragen once most of the guests (and Olivia) had departed, taking up his left side while Jeffries took up his right, removing her jacket to reveal two short-bladed katanas strung on her shoulders.

Bruce wasn't cowed. He was used to seemingly hopeless situations like this. "So Huang was working for you," he deduced, the men fanning out through the Manor.

"Quite so Bruce. His toxin was derived from the naturally occurring chemicals in our…"

"Blue flowers."

Leaning his cane on his shoulder like in a Charlie Chaplain film, Cragen smiled softly. "You have improved Bruce; it seems Olivia's skills have rubbed off on you. He did use our flowers, though he purified and weaponized it, which even with our skills was beyond our level of expertise."

"He's not a member of the League of Shadows," Bruce remarked, noting the insular and arrogant nature of his former organization (they loathed to accept help from or interact with the uninitiated).

"Of course not!" scoffed Jeffries, insulted at the very idea. "The fool thought the plan was to hold the city for ransom." Cragen held up a hand, which caused the new apprentice to cease speaking, although it couldn't remove the snarl from her lips.

"But really, you are going to release Huang's poison into the air."

Cragen nodded, "And watch Gotham tear itself apart through fear."

"You're going to destroy millions of lives."

"Only a blind moron would call what these people have lives Wayne," spat Jeffries.

"She's right Bruce. The League of Shadows has been a check against human corruption for millennia. We sacked Rome, loaded the trade ships with plague rats, burned London to the ground, fired the first shots at Fort Sumter. Every time a civilization reaches the pinnacle of its decadence, we return to restore the balance."

"Gotham isn't beyond saving. Give me more time; there are good people here."

Sighing, Cragen still longed for Bruce to return to the fold. He decided to give him one last chance at forgiveness. "When I found you in that prison you were lost, but I believed in you, saved you from your fear, and gave you a path. You were my greatest student. It should be you standing by my side saving the world."

Bruce summoned his inner strength. "I will stand where I belong, with Olivia, between you and the people of Gotham."

Jeffries growled, "No one can save Gotham; not you, and not your little uninitiated tart." She snapped her fingers, causing the other men to begin to set fires in the Manor.

"When a forest grows too tall, the purging fire is inevitable and natural," Cragen opined. "Tonight the world will watch in horror as its greatest city destroys itself. The movement back to harmony will be unstoppable this time."

Eyes widening, Bruce stared at his former mentor. "You've attacked Gotham before?"

"Of course, for over the ages our weapons have grown more sophisticated. With Gotham we tries a new one, economics. But we underestimated certain of Gotham's citizens, such as your parents." As Bruce glared at Cragen, anger building up inside him, his mentor circled him, joining his new apprentice behind him. "Gunned down by one of the very people they were trying to help. Their deaths galvanized the city to saving itself, and Gotham's been limping on ever since. We are back now, to finish the job, and this time no misguided idealists and their uninitiated sidekicks can stop us. Like your father you lack the courage to do all that is necessary. When someone stands in the way of true justice, you simply sneak up and stab them in the heart."

Snarling, Jeffries lunged forward with her katana, aimed at Bruce. Quickly parrying the blade with his arms, he punched her in the gut, sending her reeling. Cragen attempted to draw his sword out of the cane, but Bruce quickly grabbed it, facing him eye to eye. "We will stop you."

"You never learned to mind your surroundings!" Cragen shoved him into a falling beam, trapping Bruce underneath. "Justice is balance. You burned my house and left me for dead; consider us even."

Outside, the flames began to eat up the proud Manor. "Make sure no one gets out alive!" Cragen shouted, entering a captured SWAT vehicle.

"What about the girl? Should we hunt her down?" asked one of the League warriors.

"Her, ha!" laughed Jeffries as she stepped into the vehicle. "Want can an uninitiated do?"

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In Arkham Asylum, three League of Shadows warriors disguised as SWAT troopers silently made their way inside. Two hurried downstairs while one booked for the main guard station. Once there, he knocked out the armed guard, turning the emergency cell open switch, releasing the prisoners. The other two set up semtex plastic explosive on the outer wall. Clearing the blast radius, one flipped the detonator, blowing a path into the street.

Still bound in a straitjacket, George Huang saw his mask thrown into his lap. "Time to play," whispered the League warrior. Huang smirked back.

As the de facto leader of the group of confused inmates, Victor Gitano scrambled to the staircase to see what the explosion was. Finding the wall blasted open, he went back to his fellow prisoners. Raising his fists in triumph, Gitano let out a guttural war cry, urging his men to follow him into the streets. They needed little encouragement.

**A/N: What could be worse than a Gitano led prison break?**

**For all their planning and skills, the League of Shadows made one big mistake, counting out Badass Benson. Idiots [facepalm].**

**Hate to leave you with the cliffhanger, but it was too funny to pass up. **

**Please share and Review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So here it is, the League of Shadows returns (doesn't Jeffries make a good member?).**

**In this chapter, how will Liv and Alfred get Bruce out of the burning Wayne Manor? Also, who is going to punch Cassidy and for what reason? Read to find out.**

**Disclaimer: If Olivia hasn't yet kicked Cassidy to the curb in order to marry Elliot, then I do not own either story.**

**Please share and review.**

Chapter Eighteen: Street Party from Hell

Running down the staircase at a clip that would rival a far younger man, Elliot reached the group gathered around the gaping hole in the outer wall of Arkham Asylum. While SWAT and uniforms were guarding the perimeter, Lenny Briscoe was on the radio. "Yes Commissioner – No, there's no one left within the perimeter – Yes, all over the island – I have Stabler and Cassidy with me." Elliot looked over and saw a fuming Cassidy (obviously transitioning into the second stage of grief, anger) pacing back and forth, occasionally waving his gun in the air like a crazy person (Elliot had no trouble believing that thought). "Ok, got it!" Briscoe hung up. "Well that was sure fun," he said, the sarcasm practically oozing out of his mouth.

"What the hell was that explosion?" asked Elliot, who had been in the basement searching for clues when it happened.

"Well Elliot, some rogue SWAT troopers planted semtex explosive on the wall, blowing it to kingdom come. After that, Gitano and his band of merry men decided to celebrate Marti Gras a little early this year."

That definitely got Elliot's blood boiling. "What!" he yelled in the classic Stabler temperament. "Son of a bitch! How many got out?"

"All of them Elliot. Murderers, rapists, serial killers, kiddie diddlers, and of course Gitano, who is all of the above."

"We need to raise the bridges, get the Narrows isolated from the rest of the city."

"Yeh Stabler," sneered Cassidy, "We should do that, but first we need every single unit in the God damn GPD out here to catch the fucking homicidal maniacs that are running loose out there!"

"What if they get loose huh? We have to trap them here so they don't escape!" Elliot seethed. "Besides Cassidy, I didn't think you'd care so much about the citizens of the Narrows, unless they owed you money anyways."

Cassidy stormed over to Elliot, getting in his face. "Fuck you Stabler! Why don't you just go to your old pal Munch, or better yet, go and fuck your sweet ass partner of yours. God knows she needs it, though it would be better coming from me." A smirk appeared on his face, only to have it disappear when he noticed Elliot's eyes go several shades darker.

Before anyone could register what had happened, Elliot's fist made contact with Cassidy's eye socket. "Motherfucker!" wailed the detective, knocked to his knees. "Lenny you saw what happened; call IAB!"

Briscoe snorted, "For what Cass? Way I saw it, some punk ass convict ran up, cold cocked you, and then booked for the nearest side street before Elliot and I even noticed." He grinned widely and winked at Elliot, who gave him a thumbs up in return. "Anyway Elliot, Munch is sending in the riot police. Only then will the bridges be raised."

"So what are we waiting for," hooted Cassidy, the purplish bruise forming around his left eye not slowing him down a bit. "Let's go kick some ass!" He chambered a round in his custom made Desert Eagle and charged out of the asylum, hollering an unintelligible war cry.

Sighing, Briscoe hitched up his pants, "Something tells me there's going to be several police brutality complaints in the morning because of him."

"Much as I hate that asshole, is that necessarily a bad thing?" Nodding, Briscoe silently agreed that Gitano's assembled crew of scum deserved whatever was coming to them.

"He must have really loved that car to get so worked up. None of my three ex-wives loved me that much; neither did any of Munch's five."

"One Lenny, you really need to pick better. Two, Cassidy has had trouble with anyone who has a heartbeat. Inanimate objects are probably the only things that he can show his brand of love to without getting smacked in the face." He started laughing uncontrollably, earning a raised eyebrow from Briscoe. "Now I know what Liv felt," he stammered between bouts of laughter. "She gave him a broken nose a few months back, and it didn't slow him down one bit. Does someone have to pistol whip that asshole to make him clam down?"

"Don't rightly know Elliot, but just as a warning, Munchies wants me to help coordinate the retaking of the Narrows, so Robocop is all yours." Elliot gave him a Badass Benson glare, which caused Briscoe to chuckle. "Now that is fucking funny!"

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Wayne Manor was burning, and trapped unconscious beneath the fallen beam, Bruce was powerless to stop it. Everything that had belonged to nearly seven generations of Waynes were going up in smoke, the towering inferno engulfing furniture, priceless artwork, all of it. The flames slowly licked their way to Bruce, crackling a sound akin to laughter as they crept closer and closer, ready to snuff the life out of him.

The three League of Shadows guards gazed upon the manor with awe. It was an amazing sight, the immense, aesthetic beauty of the high gothic mansion illuminated by the flames contrasted with the sheer destructive power of the purifying fire. Each one smiled, for soon, all of Gotham would be destroyed in the same manner, the rejuvenating destruction clearing away the decay and corruption leaving only the natural beauty in its wake. This was the true mission of the League of Shadows, and they were proud to take part in that mission.

Too caught up in the sight of Wayne Manor, the stone walls cracking as the foundation burned, none of them noticed the figure creeping up behind them. They had been reassured by Jeffries that the traitor Bruce Wayne remained in the house, and none of them had any respect for the little tart that he had trained. She was merely an imposter, no match for the initiated such as themselves.

"Hey boys," growled a seductive voice behind them. Turning around, the closest guard had barely registered anything before Olivia smashed his face in with a hoe, scavenged from the greenhouse. The guard toppled unconscious to the pavement, blood pouring from his nose. The remaining two unsheathed their swords, sizing up the threat. In front of them stood the traitor's apprentice, the uninitiated one, looking ridiculous and out of place in her sheer red gown and low heels. Each man grinned; this was going to be quite easy.

"Well gentlemen," she hissed, "I haven't got all day." Grunting, the two League warriors lunged forward, seeking the quick first strike. Twirling out of the way with remarkable agility, Olivia jabbed with the hoe, catching the left guard in the chest and hurling him to the ground. The second guard wheeled around, his sword slicing clean through the wooden handle, making the hoe useless in Olivia's hands. Smirking, he raised the sword, preparing to bring it straight down into the pretender's neck.

Sensing this, Olivia threw the two sticks of wood at the guard, giving her a slight opening. Leaning forward, she grasped his right arm and jerked it in a weird angle, hearing the snap of broken bones. Crying out in pain, he attempted to smash her face in with his left fist, but she ducked and leapt in the air, knocking him out with a swinging kick. Landing on her feet with a whoosh form her dress, Olivia smirked before hearing the click of a gun hammer. Turning, she saw the third League warrior holding a revolver in his hand, aimed straight at her. "Goodbye tart," he muttered, taking good aim. Olivia closed her eyes, whispering a silent apology to God that she wasn't able to save Bruce.

TWACK! Olivia opened her eyes, confused at the sound; normally a revolver gave off a sharp bark, with a snap for a bullet that just missed. It took a moment to register that the guard was in a crumpled heap on the grass, knocked out. She looked up to see a panting Alfred, holding a nine iron in his hands. She smiled widely, "Thanks Uncle Alfred."

He bowed slightly, "Not a problem; I just hope they weren't members of the Fire Brigade." She chuckled a bit before hearing a groan. The walls were close to collapsing, the fire raging out of control. "Come on Olivia, let's get Master Bruce." Determined, the two ran straight into the burning building.

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Waking up with a jolt, Alex Cabot quickly jerked her head from side to side, trying to get her bearings straight. In the late evening darkness, Alex noticed that she was nice and comfortable in her own bed right smack in her own bedroom. It didn't make sense to her. The last memory she had was getting dosed by Huang and now she was in her apartment as if nothing had happened.

Shaking her head, Alex got up from the bed and walked toward her kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she grabbed a cool bottle of water and proceeded back to her bed, switching on the small TV across the cozy bedroom.

As usual, it was turned to Gotham Central News. "Shocking new reports tonight as inmates from Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane are running rampant through the Narrows." Alex's body stiffened at that. Arkham was Huang's facility, and anything that involved him couldn't be random chance. The anchor went on, "We now go live to GCN's own Nick Ganzler on scene."

The camera cut to a feed of City Island just south of the Narrows. "Thanks Mike, as you can see," the camera zoomed in on a section of the island right on the bank of the north river, "The Narrows is being torn apart by some very dangerous characters. We have confirmation that they include serial killer Robert Moreton, multiple murderer Charlie Baker, rapist Sal Munoz, and Victor "The Enforcer" Gitano of the Falcone Crime Family."

"That's a pretty intimidating list Nick. What are the police doing to stop this?"

"Ah, good question Mike. The police are preparing to seal off the Narrows from the rest of Gotham, but not before sending in the riot police to restore some semblance of order, though they have their work cut out for them Mike."

Alex turned off the TV, her thoughts overwhelming her. Picking up the remote, she turned her head to set it on the nightstand when she spotted two syringes on the countertop, which were not there when she left that morning. Puzzled Alex picked them up, racking her brain for answers.

Suddenly, she remembered everything, the car chase, the cave, the two figures. Jumping out of bed, she hurriedly threw on a jacket and grabbed her taser and keys, heading out the door. She had to see Elliot Stabler at once, and nothing was going to stop her.

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Surrounded by an ever present, searing hear, Bruce's eyes fluttered open, still blurry. Trying to get up, he hit the beam with his bruised chest and groaned in pain, collapsing back down on the tiled floor. All around him, Wayne Manor burned, as if marking the biggest funeral pyre in the history of the world, and he was too confused and fuzzy to even realize it.

"Bruce!" He die recognize that. Olivia ran toward him, silently thanking God she found him. "Uncle Alfred! He's here!"

"Master Wayne!" Alfred ran over from the other side of the reception room, the smoke and ash coating his ever present dinner jacket. "Here Olivia, help me get this off." The two heaved on the beam, straining with all their might to lift it off Bruce.

They managed to get it about a few inches but their groans belied their inability to continue. "Bruce," croaked Olivia, the smoke getting to her. "Give us a hand you lazy idiot." Bruce stared, still somewhat out of it.

"What's the point of all those pushups if you can't even lift a bloody log," quipped Alfred, keeping his cool even in the face of an out of control inferno consuming the entire manor.

Looking at the two with a puzzled frown (was this the best time to make jokes), Bruce grunted and pushed upward with his arms, providing the force necessary to finally end his confinement with the beam. He coughed and rolled to his side, taking deep breaths of the still breathable air around the floor (smoke was lighter than air).

A crashing chandelier at the far end of the room alerted the trio to their impending demise. With the entranceway covered in crackling flames, both Alfred and Olivia knew their only escape route was through the Batcave, protected from the inferno by being nearly fifty feet underground. "Come on Master Wayne," whispered Alfred, looping one of Bruce's arms around his shoulder, Olivia taking the other. The stumbled and limped toward the study, the hallway growing ever hotter due to the advancing flames. Hearing a loud crash, both of them knew that the foundation and walls were beginning to crumble. "Hurry Olivia! Open the bookcase; I've got him."

Running into the study, Olivia tapped the keys on the piano (which was surprisingly undamaged), opening the secret passageway to the Batcave, hobbling toward it with Bruce, Alfred motioned for Olivia to follow. Seeing something in the corner of her eye, she leaned forward and snatched it up just as a large piece of plasterboard collapsed where it was. Booking for the doorway, she made it unscathed except for a few singed portions of her dress.

Trotting behind Alfred and Bruce (who was still hunched over and coughing like a madman, clutching his chest like a cripple) Olivia glanced behind her and noticed the wall of flame forming, seeking the newly available oxygen of the passageway. Practically shoving the two into the elevator, she jerked the lever down with all her might, hoping that would cause it to descend faster. The fireball rocketed at them, the scorching inferno picking up speed at a frightening rate. For a moment, Olivia felt that they were all goners, but when the searing heat came from above and not from ahead, she looked up. The old elevator had done its job, and the flame had passed only feet above the compartment. Looking at Alfred, she smiled weakly and began to laugh the grim laugh of those lucky enough to cheat death.

The elevator landed with a thud at the bottom of the tunnel, causing both Alfred and Olivia to collapse to the floor, coughing and wheezing. Both had inhaled quite a bit of smoke, and it with the adrenaline leaving their systems tier lungs were determined to purge the black filth out of their systems.

"Liv, Alfred, what have I done?" Both turned to see Bruce, looking up at the still flickering flames, the sounds of the collapsing house echoing through the cave.

Seeing tears well in his eyes, Olivia's heart broke. "What are you talking about Bruce? This was the League of Shadows' doing, not yours."

"No Liv," he sobbed, his voice reeking of guilt and despair. "Everything my family, my father built, gone because of me." She was close to tears herself, her mouth too consumed by pain at her friend's despair to utter anything.

Stoic but warm as always, Alfred responded for her. "The Wayne legacy Master Bruce is much more than bricks and mortar."

"He's right Bruce," added Olivia, her mind jolted out of its pain. "Your father wouldn't have cared about these material things, only that you were safe."

"I wanted to save Gotham, to do good for this city like my father." A lone tear ran down his cheek. "I failed."

He closed his eyes, not wanting to live anymore when he felt two hands squeezing his. Bruce looked up to see Alfred and Olivia grasping one hand each. "Why do we fall sir?" asked Alfred, using the same question/lesson that Thomas Wayne used after Bruce fell in the well. "So that we can learn to pick ourselves up."

Bruce smiled, the tears welling in his eyes those of happiness and not grief. 'How did I deserve this level of love?' "Neither of you have given up on me I see."

Olivia smiled and kissed him on the forehead. Alfred beamed, "Never."

"So what do you say Bruce," said Olivia, morphing into Badass Benson mode. "You want to show Ra's al Ghul and the League of Shadows what happens when someone messes with the Batman's city?" She stood and reached out her hand.

Smirking, he clasped it firmly, hauling himself up. "Sounds like a date," he said. Olivia put every ounce of strength she possessed into use to try not to blush, but what he said next did the trick. "Are you sure you're up to it, because if you think a girl like you can't handle it I understand."

Embarrassment changed to annoyance just like that, Olivia smacked him in the arm packing a greater punch than the beam. "You cocky son of a bitch. Just for that you're paying for this dress."

"Me and my big mouth. Oh where will I get the money?" Both of them grinned at each other.

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All around the Narrows, by the order of Commissioner Munch himself, the Gotham Police Department had mobilized to the hilt, drawing every cop in sight, riot police, SWAT, uniform, auxiliary, the cadets from the academy, everyone. Weather on foot, in vans, or on horseback they kept pouring onto the island, an iron determination in their stride. Whatever their beliefs, proclivities, or alternate employment, the lawlessness and depravity that the escaped criminals were inflicting on the Narrows was a blow to their collective pride, and like an angry male lion, they were charging in to get it back.

This was the overwhelming attitude present as Alex Cabot drove in and parked her car by several sector vehicles. A traffic cop, who couldn't have been more than twenty-two, tried to wave her off but stopped when she showed him her DA's badge.

She stepped into line behind a column of mounted officers, dressed in full riot gear and packing plastic crowd control shields and two foot nightsticks reminiscent of the knights of old. To her left, Nick Ganzler and the GCN news team were, like jackals trying to steal quick bites from another predator's kill, covering the awesome sight. "Several unconfirmed reports of police brutality are stemming from the Narrows as residents continue to express their fury at the unprecedented show of police strength in the wake of the mass breakout of inmates from Arkham. Already, over several…" Alex stopped paying attention, figuring she could read about it in the _Ledger_ tomorrow.

As she was just about to pass onto the bridge, a police Sgt. stopped her. "Wait a minute ma'am, you can't go in there."

She summoned the determined and purposeful demeanor that terrorized more than one defense attorney, "Sergeant, I am a Gotham City Assistant District Attorney, and I request that you let me pass." The attitude combined with the forceful words was all it took, the Sgt. stepping out of the way so fast Alex thought he'd stumble. 'Not bad Cabot,' she thought to herself. She wasn't as good as Liv (who could reduce the toughest man to jelly with her stare alone), but she was good.

Meanwhile, in the streets of the Narrows, chaos reigned. The island had segregated themselves into four main groups: the criminals enjoying their new found freedom, the police rushing to take them down, the cowering residents and business owners clutching knives and shotguns to defend themselves, and the braver souls who formed mobs to stop the convicts and/or heckle the police (there was no love lost between the two).

Pumping his legs up and down, Elliot ran as fast as humanly possible after his target. The prisoner was agile, surprisingly so, but he could not hope to outrun the legendary Elliot Stabler, scourge of the criminals of Gotham. Finally catching up to him, Elliot hurled the man against the wall, two uniforms running up to pin his arms while he cuffed him. "Having fun aren't you Sgt. Stabler," said the man, smirking. "I know I have."

Elliot gave him the classic Stabler grin, a sure sign that he wanted to rip the man's head clean off and feed it to the K-9 unit. "Well Moreton, I personally don't think having fun means decapitating women to satisfy our own twisted ends."

Smiling, Robert Moreton let out a sigh. "Every artist finds his inspiration somewhere. If I choose to find it in a place society finds, as you say twisted, what am I supposed to do?"

"You know how you inspire my artistic skill Moreton? Picture a human body black, blue, and red all over. Imagine that to be you, and myself the artist that created the masterpiece with nothing but my fists."

"I am honored to be an inspiration for you," finished Moreton, his smug grin making Elliot nauseous. Before he could vomit, the sight of Cassidy wailing on a convict drew his attention. 'I never thought that I'd be glad to see that asshole,' he thought, knowing that this gave him an excuse. "Get this trash out of here!" he yelled at the uniforms, jogging to his fellow officer.

Slapping the cuffs on the battered prisoner, Cassidy rose and cracked his knuckles. "Harassment! I saw harassment!" yelled a middle-aged black man from the tenement doorway to the right.

His rage overwhelming him, Cassidy leveled his Desert Eagle at the man's heart. "Oh really? Well maybe you'd rather see some excessive force motherfucker!"

The man backed away, hands up, "Hey madman with a gun."

"Cool it Cassidy!" yelled Elliot before a gang of youths emerged from around the corner, chanting and throwing bottles at the police. Elliot moved to assist the riot officers when he felt a tug on his jacket.

"Elliot, thank God I found you in this madhouse."

"Alex?" The endless cacophony drew his attention back to the hoodlums. "Cassidy, do something useful for once and hold those people back!" Cassidy snarled, but did as ordered.

"Is that the guy who keeps hitting on Liv?" Alex asked with a smirk.

Elliot laughed, "The one and only. Have you got in touch with her recently? I've called her several times but her phone is off."

"Oh, she's at Bruce Wayne's birthday party enjoying her vacation."

"Swanky; so what are you doing here Alex?"

"A pair of mutual friends gave me this," she said, handing him the syrettes. "It's an antidote that counteracts Huang's toxin. This should protect you if it gets released."

"I wouldn't worry about that Alex," Elliot said with a reassuring smile, "Unless they have some way of getting the crap into the air."

Back at the bridge, a SWAT van pulled up driven by a sinister looking oriental man in full riot gear. "Alright," said the Sgt. in charge, "Last one across." Once the van made it to the other side, the Sgt. gave the order to raise the bridge, trapping all of those in the Narrows to their fate.

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Acting like men possessed, Bruce and Olivia hurried with their gear, for every second wasted meant that the League of Shadows was one second closer to destroying the city. "Liv," asked Bruce, slightly embarrassed, "Where is my grapple gun?"

Grinning, Olivia tossed him the weapon. "Men," she muttered. "You should be less forgetful where you leave your things Bruce," she scolded, chuckling while she did. 'Let's see, nightsticks, check; grenades, check; cape, check; belt…" she looked at her gear strung out on the table, her belt nowhere in sight.

"Looking for this?" She wheeled around and saw Bruce holding her belt in the air, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Shut up," she seethed after he tossed it to her. He held up his hands as if saying "I didn't say anything," although the smirk on his face belied that.

Just then, Alfred came into the chamber, panting slightly. "Well Master Wayne, Miss Olivia, the manor is almost burnt to a crisp. I think it's time to call the fire brigade."

"Good idea Uncle Alfred," replied Olivia, donning her helmet making the transformation complete. "Just be sure to think up a good cover story."

The Wayne family butler glared at her in annoyance. "And what, pray tell, should I say? 'I'm sorry, but a group of assassins burst in here to torch the place because their former student and his best friend are dressing up like bats to take on the city's underworld.'"

"Don't worry Alfred," said Bruce, patting him on the back in a placating manner. "A smart man like you will think of something." With that, he put on his mask and trotted over to Olivia, bot making the plunge toward the parked Tumbler twenty feet down. Alfred muttered something indecipherable, picking up the satellite phone.

Landing on the wet stone floor of the cave at the same time, Bruce and Olivia jogged to the waiting Tumbler, looking menacing as always with its jet black paint job. "Ready Bruce?" she asked, her voice changed into the seductive, intimidating growl she used while wearing the mask.

"As ready as I'll ever be detective," he growled back, opening the two hatches. "Thanks again for saving me Liv," he said, dropping back into his normal voice.

"You don't need to thank me Bruce," se retorted with a sweet smile, sliding into her seat. "I'd do it gladly, anytime, anywhere. I'd even give you one of my organs."

He grinned, "So if I needed a kidney, you'd give me one?"

"Nope," she said happily, earning a confused look from the Batman. "I already promised my kidney to Elliot," Olivia explained. "But I'll tell you what, you can have half my liver if you need it."

Bruce sighed, knowing that was probably the best he could do. "Fair enough." Any further conversation was extinguished when he hit the booster rocket, the Tumbler shooting out of the cave and toward the new battlefield.

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Seemingly oblivious to the police lockdown of Narrows Island, a lone monorail whooshed over the North River, empty except for the driver. "Stop the train immediately!" said the dispatcher at the transit central headquarters, confused at his driver's actions. "The police have declared the area a no go, stop now."

"Roger that," said the driver, an unremarkable figure apart from his slight foreign accent and severe features. Playing dumb for a moment, he spotted the SWAT van with a painted X on the top. His lips coiled into a fierce grin, hitting the brakes and powering down the electric motor. The monorail glided to a stop, resting on a barren piece of elevated track right over the SWAT van.

Below, the League of shadows warriors, the last remnants of the organization before Bruce Wayne nearly annihilated it, began to assemble their weapons and equipment, dressed as GPD SWAT troopers, as inconspicuous as one could get tonight in the Narrows, which was crawling with hundreds of them. Each man wished the ranks could have been greater, but they knew that the mission came first. This den of putrid corruption would die tonight, sealing yet another victory for the yet undefeated League.

Tears falling down his cheeks, Nick (_A/N: the boy Bruce and Olivia met on the night they first confronted Huang_) lay cowering behind a dumpster several dozen yards away. The last thing he remembered of his parents was running down the streets clutching his mother's hand, only to be followed by his panicked fleeing from two crazed teens brandishing crowbars. His little feet had managed to put him quite a distance ahead, and he cowered in an abandoned store waiting for the teens to give up and search for other victims. Climbing out, he ran into a crying girl about his own age, blonde and pale as opposed to his dark, olive complexion. In the distance, a woman (probably her mother) was being stabbed repeatedly by a convict with a stubbly goatee and a limp. Grabbing her hand, Nick dragged her away from the grisly scene, knowing that a big boy would always protect a woman in distress. They hid behind the dumpster, where they cried in each other's arms.

"Look Nick," exclaimed Amanda (she having told him her name after the tears dried up). "Are those cops?" she asked in her Southern drawl.

Squinting, Nick made out the bold GPD on the figures' backs. "Yeh Amanda, they are. Let's go get help." They had all been drilled through safety videos and McGruff the Crime Hound lectures to know cops were supposedly their friends. "Can you help us?" One of the cops, a stern-looking black man, stared back at the source of the voice.

"We can't find our parents," sobbed Amanda before the cop roughly shoved them away, grunting in irritation.

"Hey!" yelled Alex Cabot, running toward the SWAT troopers. Even in such a sorry force as the GPD, no one could treat mere children like that. Olivia would have probably beaten them senseless. "What the hell do you think you're doing!" she shouted, gripping Nick and Amanda's shoulders protectively.

The man lifted his finger warningly, looking so fierce as to make even Alex Cabot, the terror of the courtroom, cringe.

"Enough gentlemen," said the calm, fatherly voice of Don Cragen/Ra's al Ghul, stepping out of the van, Monique Jeffries by his side. "It is time to spread the word." While Jeffries watched with an almost snarl-like grin, Cragen pressed the fire button on the control panel. Still holding the two children, Alex watched in confusion and horror as the box-like machine the troopers were surrounding lit up, a cylindrical device spinning inside. "And the word is… panic."

All at once, the water in the mains vaporized, the steam shooting out of them, manhole covers flying in the air. Soon, the streets were covered in the resulting mist.

"Holy shit!" mumbled the chief utilities inspector, looking at an interactive map of the sewer system from his office in Wayne Tower.

"The pressure sir," babbled his assistant, just as surprised. "It's spiking right here," he mentioned, pointing right to the main underneath Arkham Asylum.

"That's just under the Narrows."

**A/N: Another cliffhanger; mwwwaaahahaha! **

**Hope you liked the little SVU references I sprinkled into the chapter. Don't worry about the two kids, we'll see them again. Also, I thought Cassidy needed a good punching (I hate that guy). Elliot hadn't done it yet so…**

**I've wanted to write the "Fire Brigade" line for Alfred for a while now. After (in most to least order) Olivia, the Joker, Bruce, and Lucius Fox, I find Alfred as the most kick-ass SVU/TDK character, narrowly edging out Elliot and Bane who tie for sixth (sorry El, but who doesn't love Bane's voice ;).**

**Only two chapters left, so be prepared for the big fight!**

**Please Review and share!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Here it is, the epic showdown! I got deep into writing my unpublished novel, so I worked on this puppy furiously for two days. Fingers crossed on the former!**

**Here it all culminates, Bruce and Liv vs. the League of Shadows, Alex finds out, Elliot kicks ass, and Huang and Cassidy get their just desserts. **

**Enjoy, share, and review!**

Chapter 19: Student vs. Master

Elliot was knocked over onto his feet by a massive geyser of steam shooting out of a manhole four feet away. He lay flat on his stomach for nearly twenty seconds before he slowly rose, rubbing his lower back. 'I'm getting to old for this shit,' he thought bitterly. Looking all around him, the air was shrouded in a damp mist that seemed to permeate the entire island, reducing visibility to mere yards. Realizing what happened, Elliot automatically reached into his suit pocket and pulled out one of the syrettes Alex gave him. Sticking himself in the thigh, he grunted in pain but plunged the handle all the way. With all of Huang's shit in the air, he was going to need every single drop of the antitoxin.

The mist seeping into his clothes and lungs, Brian Cassidy at first felt nothing but confusion and annoyance. First, he lost his beautiful car, crushed into scrap metal by the Batman and his bitch. Second, he'd been sucker punched by Stabler, which still hurt like hell. Now, his Brooks Brothers suit was getting all damp from this weird mist. 'It's not fucking fair! I'm not a dick (A/N: _really?_) like Stabler or a bitch like Benson. This shouldn't be happening to me!'

Because it wasn't the concentrated Huang pocket dose, the effects of the gas started taking effect about thirty seconds after dispersal. It began with the eyes, vision distorting and rippling, adding to the shrouding effects of the fog itself. Soon, the world began spinning for affected individuals, some losing their balance or feeling slight touch sensations, as if someone or something was poking them in the back.

After around a minute and a half after exposure, the hallucinations began to start, morphing any moving object into a walking nightmare. Some visions were taken from the victim's subconscious, exacerbating already present fears. Others were more opportunistic, morphing ordinary movements and visual/auditory stimuli into grotesque distortions of themselves; for example, the chime of a bell would be interpreted by the victim as the blood-curdling screams of a child. The total effect on the residents of the narrows was very simple, chaos.

Sensing movement behind him, the now paranoid Cassidy swung around, coming face to face with a pair of lost teenagers. To a rational man, they were no threat, just two scared boys trying to make their way home. For Cassidy, hopped up on Huang's drug, they looked like homicidal goblins, determined to end his life. His mind foggy and his vision distorted, he gripped his Desert Eagle with both hands, shakily cocking the hammer. The two boys raised their hands, confronted by a Dawn of the Deadish zombie pointing a gun at them. Still threatened though, Cassidy's finger massaged the trigger, ready to give it a squeeze when something collided with the back of his head, knocking him out.

Standing over the knocked out Cassidy, panting slightly, Elliot glanced at his Berretta 9mm, the gun which he used to pistol whip Cassidy with. "I'm going to have to remember that move. For the first time in forever, ol' Bri's finally shut up," he quipped to no one in particular, cuffing his former partner to a fence rail.

Noticing screams to the left, he booked around the curb, coming right onto Riverside Ave, which ran parallel to the North River. There, a defenseless woman was being assaulted by two crazed convicts, who looked as if trying to destroy a demon. "Hey assholes!" he screamed, catching their attention. One charged with a feral scream, brandishing a bloody pipe over his head. One well-aimed punch to the jaw sent him sprawling, knocked out cold. The second, his eyes wide with fright, stood and flew the coop, the flight in "fight or flight" taking over.

Over the mass screams, snarls, and cries emanating from the interior of the island, he heard his radio cackle to life on his belt. "Hello, this is Commissioner Munch! Somebody talk to me! Anyone at all."

Raising the radio to his ear, Elliot spoke into the receiver. "Munch, this is Stabler. I'm on Riverside Ave, but I can't even see the north bank."

"Elliot, thank God you're still alive! I've been getting static or paranoid rants for nearly fifteen minutes."

While he would normally have fired a smartass remark about paranoid rants (this was Munch after all), Elliot was in the middle of a full scale Charlie Foxtrot (military slang for Cluster Fuck). "I'm deep in shit here! We need all the reinforcements you can get! SWAT, Fugitive Apprehension Teams, Riot Cops, send it all…"

"Elliot..." sighed Munch on the other end. "All the city's riot police are on the island with you. It's all there."

Looking at the street about five yards ahead, Elliot could make out the prone, unconscious forms of several SWAT troopers. "They're being overrun here! We've got convicts and crazed residents on the loose hell bent on ripping everyone limb from limb.

Across the river, gazing at the shrouded streets of the Narrows, Munch bowed his head in frustration. "Elliot, there's no one left to send." This was followed by a black shape barreling toward the river at a fast clip. Igniting what seemed to be a rocket engine in the rear, it shot over the river.

"You mean I'm on my own?" Elliot's train of thought was broken when the Tumbler landed with a thud on the other side, three yards behind him. It careened into a stone building, smashing through two columns but emerging unscathed.

Running over, Elliot saw the Batman and his partner exit the vehicle, both unaffected by the mist like him. Olivia glanced down at the convict Elliot had knocked out. "What are these convicts doing loose?"

"Some rogue SWAT troopers busted them out of the Asylum along with Huang, Gitano, and a bunch of other psychos."

"They're luring the entire police force into a trap," growled Bruce, cringing inside; Liv had told him how Gitano almost sliced her neck open. There was nothing more he wanted to do that beat his face into a pulp, but he figured Stabler would probably beat him to it.

Nodding, Elliot continued, though not knowing who "they" was. "They already did. The Narrows is tearing itself to pieces."

"This is only the beginning," Olivia responded, "If they spread the rest of the toxin through the city, there's nothing to stop Gotham from tearing itself apart due to the mass panic it causes."

"How the hell are they planning to accomplish that?"

Bruce picked up the conversation. "There's a machine that can vaporize the entire supply that's currently in their possession. They'll be using the Monorail to transport it to the central hub beneath Wayne Tower. Hitting it will cause a chain reaction that will accomplish their end goal."

"Covering Gotham in this poison, and there's no real police force left to stop them," Elliot groaned, running a hand through his close cropped hair.

"We can stop them from loading that train," Olivia said. "But we may need your help Sgt." She knew she could trust Elliot with anything, and Olivia knew that Bruce was starting to trust him as well. For their plan, both knew he'd perform flawlessly (though with his driving, she knew it wouldn't be pretty).

Elliot looked puzzled, "What could I possibly do?"

Bruce pulled out a key. "Can you drive stick?"

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After witnessing the League of Shadows launch the offensive against an unknowing Gotham City (the burning of Wayne Manor the opening salvo), Alex Cabot withdrew further into the Narrows, well enough acquainted with it due to Olivia living here for so long. Still clutching the two kids tightly to her, she kept their innocent little eyes buried in her stomach, away from the horrors that lurked in the mist.

The gas was starting to affect them, though for some reason not as much as the convicts and citizens (maybe due to their being children, though Alex wasn't a doctor or a chemist; she vowed to ask Melinda about it if they got out of this alive). Whimpering at the shadows, she noticed the little boy squeeze the little girl's hand to try and comfort her, a sweet gesture especially given he was petrified himself. "It's ok guys," she murmured to the kids, clutching them tighter with her arms, hunkering in a doorway. "No one's going to hurt you."

"OF COURSE THEY ARE!" yelled a voice from afar, with the deep, gravelly voice of a demon of the apocalypse. The kids screaming, Alex turned to see a horseman in a brown cape, laughing maniacally.

Squinting, Alex's eyes widened when she noticed the grotesque mask covering his face, adding to the general impression of terror. "Huang?"

"No," he held up a finger in contradiction, "Scarecrow!" Voice booming laughter he whipped the reins, the horse charging toward the trio. Gently but firmly nudging the whimpering children (Nick's hand still clenching Amanda's tightly), Alex fled through the street, weaving through fighting and wailing figures with surprising agility. One man, the notorious serial killer/rapist Peter Williams, snarled and tried to give chase but was run over by the still laughing Huang. He was knocked to the pavement bleeding, which in the haze of the drug glowed a deep black, like tar. His mouth forming animal-like screams, he looked up and gaped wild-eyed at the mounted demon towering over him. "Boo!" Huang boomed, with what appeared to be molten lead seeping out of his eyes. Williams screamed and fled, running right into a deranged local shop owner who blasted him point blank with a twelve-gauge shotgun. "Fool!" Huang cackled, resuming his chase of the ADA.

Stumbling over trashcans, debris, and the prone bodies of the GPD officers, Alex hurried the kids into the corner between two shops, trying to hide from their tormentor. "Stay here, he can't find us," she comforted, running her hands through the children's hair.

Cutting through the mist like a scythe, Huang reined in the horse, his head swiveling back and forth in search of his prey. When it settled on Alex and the kids, he gave a guttural cry in triumph. "There you are!" he snarled, charging at them. "Don't panic little ones. There is nothing to fear, but fear itself!" He pulled on the reins, causing the horse to mount its hind legs, kicking wildly with its front limbs. Nick clenched Amanda's hand tighter, feeling her shake uncontrollably as the gas-induced hallucinations showed bright red flames shoot out of the horse's nostrils and the Scarecrow's eyes. "Don't worry. I'm here to help you…"

With lightning reflexes, Alex whipped out her taser and shot Huang right between the eyes. Screaming bloody murder, his voice returning to the annoying normal version from the terrifying Scarecrow tone, he slumped down in the saddle, the horse trotting off into the distance. "Fear me douchebag," Alex whispered, checking on the kids when the shuffling of feet to the left startled them.

If Huang was a demon, then Victor Gitano and his band of not-so-merry men were specters. His goons hunched over and manic, Gitano was far different, his sick and twisted mind oddly calm and calculating, the terrifying hallucinations of the gas only intriguing him. Spotting the trio, he tapped the shoulder of the six-foot-five gargantuan he kept as a personal bodyguard. For a marauding psychopath, he followed his diminutive boss with uprising meekness; in the criminal underworld, money and terror reigned supreme, and Gitano had enough of the latter to overcompensate for his lack of the former. Slowly, the band watching, they advanced on the trio, Gitano holding a knife while the giant clutched a pickax.

Alex maneuvered the kids into an alley, making sure there was only one possible entry point. They might have been trapped, but Gitano could only approach from one direction; all she needed was a weapon. Seeing the still form of a uniformed officer, Alex darted to him, tugging at the Berretta still clipped to his belt. Gitano chuckled at her attempts (amused that she looked like a half-rotted vampire in his mind; it was something of a turn on). Amanda and Nick were both freaking out, clinging to each other for what little comfort they could get. Alex stepped back, cocking the hammer of the gun and pushing the two behind her.

"Don't worry," said Nick to both ladies. "Batman and Batgirl will save us." (A/N: _the official naming of Liv as Batgirl will come in the next chapter_) "He'll come."

"Don't peek sweetie," said Alex, her finger about to squeeze.

Dropping to the ground, Bruce and Olivia went to work on the attackers. Smashing the giant's face with a well-aimed right hook, Bruce heaved him over his shoulder at the goons, who scattered away like roaches. Snapping Gitano's knife-wielding arm, Olivia gave him an uppercut to the jaw, catching a glimpse of him crumple to the ground (and it felt good). Bruce wrapped his shroud around Alex while Liv did the same for the kids as they shot upward.

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His torso leaning against the Tumbler, Elliot stared intently at the virtual stealth fighter of land vehicles. He pointed the digital remote/key at the sleek behemoth, the edge only three inches from the tinted window (technology and Elliot Stabler did not go well together; Olivia once joked that the squad had gotten computers just as he had mastered the typewriter). Pressing the button, he sighed in relief when the vertical hatch opened with a whoosh.

He raised the radio to his mouth. "This is Stabler, prepare to lower the bridge."

Back on top of one of the many tenements that dotted the Narrows, Bruce and Olivia gently parked Alex and the two kids on the top, safe from the chaos below. Alex set Nick and Amanda on the ground, where both panted due to the drug and residual fear from below.

"I told you they'd come," whispered Nick to Amanda, their heads leaning against each other, eyes closed.

Both Bruce and Olivia nodded slightly before leaping on the brick ledge. "Wait!" shouted Alex, making them both turn. "You could die out there, so just tell me your names. I need to know who to thank."

Bruce glanced at Olivia before answering, "It's not who we are underneath, but what we do that defines us."

Puzzled for a moment, it suddenly clicked in Alex's mind. "Bruce?"

Not responding, they both leapt off the building, spreading their wings. Alex stared in both confusion and slight wonder. "And I bet I know who your partner is."

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Gliding effortlessly over the Narrows, Bruce and Olivia were lost in thought, oblivious to the frightened screams of the panicked residents, seeing them as some kind of flying monsters.

For Bruce, he was truly scared of confronting his mentor, the only man other than Alfred who had truly taken his father's place in his life (but never his heart). He had been the one who trained him, gave him a purpose, and cared for him like a son; though that purpose turned out to be monstrous, Bruce couldn't help but believe that Cragen had been the key to making him the man he was today. Thanks to his mentor, along with Alex's rant in the car on the day Skinner died, Bruce was a new man from the broken, shattered soul that fateful day seven years ago. He was no monster, and vowed right there that he wouldn't kill anyone tonight. He would stop them however, with his partner and best friend right by his side.

Beside him, Olivia's mind was racing along similar lines. Unlike her best friend, she didn't have the three long years of preparation that he had. She felt slightly overwhelmed at the fact that only four weeks ago, she had chosen to change her entire life on a whim, a well-thought out one but a whim nonetheless. Now, she was flying over her city, her home, on to fight the people who trained Bruce, and by extension trained her; it terrified her. Looking over at Bruce, their eyes met; at that moment, Olivia felt a surge of confidence. They would win this day. 'And besides, we have a secret weapon.' She couldn't help but smile inwardly at the thought of Elliot piloting the Tumbler.

At the monorail track, Donald Cragen (A/N: _I will be using his alias, but he is Ra's al Ghul_) oversaw the loading of the microwave emitter onto the monorail, flanked by Jeffries and four League warriors. So far the plan was working perfectly; the emitter dispersed the gas all over the island, trapping the police and preventing them from interfering with the next step of their plan. Protected from the toxin with respirators, the next stop was Wayne Tower and the destruction of Gotham City once and for all.

Spotting a pair of shapes in the distance, Cragen walked form the edge, Jeffries and the guards following him. Out of the darkness, Bruce and Olivia landed on the railing, scowling at the League warriors lie a pair of menacing, matching book ends. "My my; I believe you two took my advice about theatricality a bit literally."

"It ends here Ra's," growled Bruce.

"For you and the police maybe, but my fate lies with the rest of Gotham. Now if you and Olivia won't mind, I have a city to destroy." He tugged at the line and was pulled up to the train.

Jeffries sneered arrogantly at the two (more so than most League members). "You will die tonight." At that the four warriors drew their blades, looking fearsome in their respirators and baklavas.

"Four on two?" Olivia asked sarcastically. "I like those odds. We can take four of your pawns easy."

"As you wish tart," she tugged on her rope, rising to join her master. In her place, four more warriors descended.

Eyes locking with each other, the duo had another of their silent conversations. "Don't say it Wayne!"

"So how do you want to do this?"

"High hard and fast?"

"Sounds good."

"On your go?"

"Ladies first."

The four lead warriors lunged forward, swords aimed for Bruce and Olivia's hearts, but the two leapt out of the way nimbly, the steel slicing through air instead. Pushing forward against the railing, Bruce smashed into one of the warriors, sending both sprawling to the level below. Olivia, lighter and more agile, gripped a vertical support bar, swinging around and kicking a warrior in the skull, causing him to topple over the side. A third League warrior slicing at her, she jumped, the memory cloth wings slowing her descent as she hit the aluminum sheeting with a metallic thud.

The six remaining warriors leapt off the top floor, swords held at the ready. One launched a furious slash frenzy at Bruce, who parried each blow using his armored cuffs. Deploying her nightsticks, Olivia knocked one out with a sharp blow to the head, the baklava not offering much in the way of protection. She engaged the other two, the twin cudgels expertly keeping up with every thrust and slash directed at her.

Ducking from the sharp blade, Bruce grabbed his double-barreled grapple gun, firing at the farthest warrior's sword hand. Feeling it catch around the sword, he yanked with all his might, disarming the warrior. He grabbed the sword with his left hand, throwing it at his attacker, momentarily disorientating him. The cold cock to the jaw Bruce threw, his ventilator breaking with an audible crunch, sent him crumpling to the ground. Behind him, Olivia sensed one of her attackers tiring, so she forced the other back and slashed at the warrior, causing him to raise his sword to parry. His chest defenseless, she jabbed him in the stomach with the second nightstick, causing him to lose his grip on the sword, the metal hitting the floor with a clatter.

Four remaining, in a well-rehearsed move from the Batcave training sessions, Olivia crouched and sprung into the air, spinning around mid-flight. While Bruce wheeled to face her former attacker, she kicked his tormentor, forcing him to stumble back. Landing with a roll, she smashed her fist into his groin, causing him to fall to the ground. Bruce, not to be undone, launched a high kick of his own, nearly dislocating his hip but smashing Olivia's attacker in the face, causing him to pitch over the side. Turning to face the last warrior, he pulled out a small gun, which Bruce remembered as a hybrid shotgun/pistol, used by the League warriors when a situation was dire. He and Olivia charged, smashing two fists into him before he could fire the gun. Hearing a click, it turned out the warrior Olivia had tricked was not out of the fight. He aimed his gun, but Bruce quickly turned and used the incapacitated warrior as a human shield, absorbing the blast but knocking both of the caped crusaders onto the street below.

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Feeling like he was in an advanced fighter jet, Elliot hit the button the Batman had told him to touch first. "Automated voice navigational system activated. Welcome, Sergeant Stabler."

"That is freaky; cool, but freaky." Elliot ran a hand through his hair, a habit when things stressed him out in annoyance rather than anger (the habit for that was to punch something, a trait that had got him in more than enough trouble with IAB and defense attorneys).

"Align south on Eight Street." Touching the throttle very lightly, as if it were made from a particularly brittle form of glass, Elliot pushed it just a tiny bit forward. The Tumbler shot down the street directly at a tenement, aimed dead center for the brick wall. Muttering shit over and over, Elliot swiveled the joystick and hit the brakes, careening the Tumbler to a gliding stop, the bridge directly ahead. "Move forward 100 yards."

He took a deep breath. "The twins are going to freak out when I tell them about this."

About half a mile away, a crowd of disoriented and paranoid citizens (still suffering the effects of Huang's gas) came upon Bruce and Olivia, recovered from their fall. Seeing them as some sort of primeval monsters, the mob closed in, beating them with fists and two-by-fours, trying to tear the duo limb from limb. Struggling mightily but not wanting to hurt innocent lives, Bruce and Liv were powerless to resist the homicidal mob.

Above, Cragen and Jeffries entered the train, the microwave emitter bolted tightly to the floor, ready for use. "Monique, activate the machine," Cragen ordered, moving to the control console of the train.

"Yes master," she replied automatically to the one person who she didn't view with arrogance or contempt. At the hum and whirring of the machine, Cragen pressed several buttons on the console. The train, slowly but surely, started to move, heading directly for Wayne Tower.

Almost covered in the arms and weapons of their attackers, Olivia spotted the train moving. "Look above you!" she shouted to Bruce, praying that her partner heard her over the shrieks and screams of the mob.

As if by magic, he tapped her on the shoulder, reaching for his grapple gun, her following suit moments later. Just as a massive bear of a man arrived holding a humongous chainsaw, ready to decapitate the two heroes, both raised their arms and aimed for the train, shooting a long cable. The cable sticking to the undercarriage of the monorail, Bruce and Liv shot upward, the force overcoming the panicked tugs of the crowd.

The Eighth Street Bridge lowering, Commissioner Munch watched confused. "Who the hell authorized this?" he shouted at the officer in charge. A massive geyser from a nearby manhole interrupted him as the train sped overhead, the Caped Crusaders hanging on for dear life as they dangled underneath, smashing through ha cheap newspaper kiosk. If that wasn't enough for the frazzled police commissioner, the Tumbler chose that moment to shoot past the police barricades, weaving erratically like a teenager in her first car.

"Three miles to Wayne Tower." Elliot, sweat seeping through his suit, wondered if he could get one mile before crashing the vehicle.

Smashing through another flimsy obstacle, Bruce and Liv gritted their teeth as they kept their wits about them. The monorail was proceeding south, about half a mile before making its turn east toward the Wayne Tower central hub. Glancing down, Olivia's mood picked up when she saw the Tumbler charging down Eighth Street underneath them. 'I knew we could count on you El.'

"Turn right in ten yards." Jerking the side-stick as far to the right as possible, Elliot careened in a tight turn onto the Fifth Street exit, gunning through the ramp leading to Lower Fifth. "If only Cassidy could see me now," he smirked.

Spotting the Tumbler turn, Olivia tapped Bruce, signaling it was time. After he nodded acknowledgement, they both clicked their retractors on their belts, reeling the cables in, propelling them upward at a fast rate. Before they reached the end, they swung themselves in a narrow arc smashing through the windows of the train.

Before Jeffries could respond to this threat, Olivia dived in, gripping the vertical bar. She swung around, releasing at a point to fly straight at Jeffries, catapulting both of them into the second car, smashing through two doors to get there. Both recovering quickly, Olivia lashed out with a kick, causing Jeffries to jump back. A determined scowl on her face, Olivia deployed her twin nightsticks, ready to fight. Smirking, Jeffries unsheathed her twin short-bladed Katanas. "You are truly foolish tart," she said before lunging with a snarl.

Bruce meanwhile gripped on the rooftop handlebars, using them to pull up onto the microwave emitter. His eyes locked with Cragen's, a primal fury behind them. His mentor on the other hand looked disappointed. "You will never learn." He removed his own sword from his cane just as Bruce leapt down, slashing widely.

Faster and with greater control sensitivity than his police issue sedan, Elliot found keeping the Tumbler in a straight line was rather difficult. Trying to correct a lean to the right, the massive vehicle started banking to the left, slamming into several parked cars, clipping them with side mirrors flying through the air. He jerked the side-stick, evening out the Tumbler. "Sorry about that," he whispered to no one in particular.

Cragen lunged, Bruce only just blocking the sword from shish kabobing him. The bright steel was wedged in his hooked gauntlets, reminiscent of the fight on the lake nearly three years before. "Familiar Bruce, but have you learned anything new?"

"How bout this!" he yelled, the ripping the sword with his hooks like it was paper, disarming the older man in one fell swoop. Giving Cragen a sharp kick in the chest, sending him toppling over the microwave emitter, Bruce turned to try and stop the train. But one must never underestimate a League of Shadows Master; the broken hilt of the sword in his hand, still a perfect stabbing weapon, Cragen charged and wrapped a lean but powerful arm around his former student, aiming the hilt for his heart. Using all his strength, Bruce blocked the blow, the broken sword embedding itself in the control panel instead.

In the other car, Olivia was having just as difficult a time. Slashing and lunging like a banshee, Jeffries kept her on her toes, forcing her to parry rather than attack on her own. Chromed steel clashed with titanium alloy, Jeffries using brute force and her weapon's advantage to good use, while Liv relied on agility and maneuver, constantly probing for weak spots.

"You are nothing tart," seethed the League warrior. "How could you possibly believe that you could become one of us?" She lunged at her.

Olivia swerved in the nick of time, the sword running through a vertical pole with three gripping bars, blocking any side movement. "I didn't," she whispered, flinging a batarang at Jeffries. Raising the free sword to deflect the projectile, Olivia brought a nightstick on her outstretched hand "I'm not a psychopath." With a cry of pain, she dropped the sword, stumbling backward. Olivia gave her an extra kick, creating a five foot gap between the two.

Gripping her sole sword, Jeffries spat at Liv, "You will pay for that tart!" Olivia brought her nightsticks in the shape of an X just as her attacker brought the blade down.

"You have arrived at Wayne Tower." Reading the display, Elliot brought the Tumbler to a stop, the massive monorail girders towering above him. "Slide over to the passenger seat," droned the navigational system. Elliot furrowed his brows but did as instructed.

Suddenly, the seat pitched forward, causing him to elicit a surprised grunt. "Whoow!"

"Weapon's system activated," said the navigational system as Elliot settled into a new myriad of displays and targeting equipment. "Deploying Mark 19."

Remembering the grenade launcher from his days in the Marines, Elliot clicked his tongue. "This is going to be fun." Through the displays he could see the train turning onto the final stretch of the line. He was going to have to be quick.

Outside, a wino sauntered up to the tumbler. "Hey man. Nice ride!" (A/N: _it is isn't it?_) Elliot fired a pair of grenades, which detonated about a yard away from the support beams for the track. He swore and lined up the sights more carefully. The wino found somewhere else to be.

Knocking Cragen off him, Bruce swiveled to face his mentor, his back to the machine. Sending his fist out in a right hook, Cragen strongly gripped it, using his strength to hurl Bruce into the right side window head first. He delivered a blow to the forearm, but Bruce recovered quickly and kneed him in the chest, sending him sprawling backward. Crouching, Cragen slammed his clenched fist into Bruce's thighs, causing his student to fall to his knees. Bruce threw a wide punch which Cragen deflected, smashing a fist into his chest and kneeing him in the face, sending his student on the floor. He stood over him, putting a knee on Bruce's chest. "Don't be afraid Bruce."

Lining the steel beams directly in the digital sights, Elliot fired another salvo, hitting them dead center. The beams groaned and shifted but did not give. "Come on, come on," he muttered. Looking at the panel, he noticed the word: AGM-114 Hellfire (A/N: _an anti-tank missile used by the US Military_). "That's more like it!" he exclaimed, clicking the button next to the display.

Ducking and dodging to the best of her ability, Olivia felt her stamina weakening under Jeffries' constant assaults. The warrior launched lunge after lunge, each accompanied with a guttural war cry. Reaching out to parry a blow, Olivia caught Jeffries smirking, and immediately knew something was up. Before she could react, her opponent slammed her head into Liv's chest, brought her elbow onto her arm, and slashed with the sword, slicing her abdomen. Olivia pitched back on the floor, a hand on her wound (a superficial one), panting from exhaustion.

"Young, naive fool. Only now, at the end, do you understand the power that you could never achieve." Looking down at her stricken opponent with scathing contempt, she raised the sword. "Any last words?"

Olivia kept her gaze on the floor. "Rule… number… one."

Jeffries was puzzled for a moment before shrugging it off. "Time to die!" She brought the full force of her arms down, aiming for Liv's neck.

Without breaking a sweat, Olivia detached the arm from her wound, striking Jeffries in the right bicep with her stun device. Howling from the sudden loss of function in her right arm, the warrior stumbled back, Olivia taking advantage. She grasped her fallen nightstick, charging. "Never!" She delivered a blow to her side. "Underestimate!" Next came a kick to the stomach. "Your!" She launched sweeping kick knocking Jeffries to her knees. "Opponent!" The nightstick came crashing down on her head, ending the fight. Olivia grabbed the handcuffs on her belt, cuffing Jeffries right arm to the handrail. "Stay there bitch!" With that, she ran to the first car, ignoring Jeffries snarling behind her.

"Missile lock complete." Depressing the trigger, Elliot watched as the Hellfire shot out of the launcher, the bright flame of the rocket streaking toward the base of the girders. With a loud explosion, the concrete base disintegrated with the impact, the beams finally giving way.

"Yesss!" cheered Elliot, feeling a rush he hadn't felt in years.

Cragen hand his hand wrapped around Bruce's throat, listening to his gasping breaths. "What do you think you were going to accomplish Bruce? What did you think Olivia would accomplish. You two are just a pair of ordinary people in capes. That's why you couldn't fight injustice, and that's why you couldn't stop this train!"

"Who said anything about stopping it?" Cragen looked up and saw the hilt of his cleaved sword sticking out of the console, utterly destroying the brake hydraulic controls. Up ahead, through the front window, he could see the girders and track of the final approach topple to the street, forming a massive gap in the monorail line. Taking advantage of his mentor's lapse, Bruce flipped him over and stood over him, a batarang in hand like a knife. "You never did learn how to mind your surroundings," he growled as Olivia burst into the car behind him.

Though he knew that he should feel nothing but shame and anger in his defeat (the shouts and vile curses coming from Jeffries in the other car serving as a template), Cragen couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in who he considered his greatest student. He had started as a lost soul, and ended in forging a new path, training another, not as his apprentice but as his equal. "So you have finally learned to do what is necessary."

"We're not going to kill you Ra's," said Olivia, throwing a mine at the rear of the car.

"But that doesn't mean we have to save you," finished Bruce as the mine exploded, creating an exit. The two extended their wings, the whipping wind enabling them to glide effortlessly away from the car.

Cragen crouched, gazing at the rapidly approaching gap. Closing his eyes, the leader of the League of Shadows accepted his fate; it might be in defeat, but at least it was the proper warrior's death, and he would go out like the grand master he was, nobly.

The train charged at over 50 mph, the momentum compounded by the massive weight of the three passenger cars. It jumped the track, plowing straight into the ground-level parking garage of Wayne Tower, crushing anything and everything in its path before rolling to a stop. The microwave emitter it contained, while having immense power, was a delicate piece of equipment, and with the intense strain on it from the fall, it exploded in a white hot burst of flame, incinerating the train and the last surviving members of the League of Shadows, condemning this once mighty institution to the dustbin of history.

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Only yards from the smoking pile of steel girders and broken wiring, the Tumbler was lucky enough not to have a major scratch. "And who said my driving is bad," quipped Elliot to the wind, emerging from the passenger seat, breathing heavily, This night was one for the record books in his mind, and while there was still a lot of work (not to mention paperwork) to be done, all he wanted to do was go home and take a long, hot shower.

Seeing tow shapes gliding through the air, Elliot squinted upward, trying to discern what they were. As they came closer it became apparent; it was the two heroes of the hour, cruising right next to the colossus that was Wayne Tower. Shooting them a salute, Elliot grinned when they both gave him a thumbs up in return.

Bruce and Olivia shared a look of relief and triumph, for they had saved the city from peril. Their eyes said it all.

"You did great Liv!"

"You weren't so bad yourself Bruce. Now what?"

"Let's see what Alfred's up too. I have some business to take care of before dawn."

Olivia chuckled, wondering what was in store for everyone come first light.

**A/N: Whew! Longest chapter ever, but it was worth it!**

**Only one chapter yet guys, then it's on to The Dark Knight!**

**Please share and review!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: "Why so serious-ah?" Oh that's right, the story is nearing its end. I'm sorry, but "Let's put a smile on that face!" By the end of the week the sequel will be out, and we'll finally see the Joker! I have big plans for him ;)**

**Here, Earle finally gets what's coming to him, we see some Stabler family time at the 1-6, and feelings are sorted out/jumbled.**

**Disclaimer: Blah, Blah, Blah…**

**64 visitors in five days! Sweet! Enjoy, share, and review.**

Chapter 20: Aftermath

Flustered from all the traffic delays, plus the massive police and fire department barricade that was blocking the first floor parking level, William Earle was in a foul mood. 'I'm the President of this fucking company, I should be able to get in Wayne Tower at any pace I want! Damn cops should know better.' He made a mental note to talk to the mayor, an old golf buddy and one of the major recipients of his political contributions, about replacing Commissioner Munch with someone more pliable to his interests.

Truth be told, ever since the first news reports on the Narrows Riots, Earle had been in a state of panicked damage control. Starting when he returned home from getting booted out of Bruce Wayne's birthday party (he was glad he didn't have to deal with that smug douche anymore now that the company had gone public), Earle had spent the entire night talking with the company's lawyers, desperate how to avoid liability and criminal charges stemming from the loss of the microwave emitter, which he knew from the beginning was part of the attacks. They had reassured him that with Fox fired and the documents on the way to the incinerator, as long as the upper echelon of Wayne Enterprises was controlled by his partisans, then there was nothing to worry about. 'Thank God for the Batman and his chick, even if they are crazy.'

He did a mental inventory of the board members. The Chairman Emeritus and some of the younger hotshots might not play ball, but Morgenthau and the senior executives, who had the real power along with the shareholders, were behind him all the way. Scoffing, Earle was insulted that something so inept as the US Government would try to investigate a titan like him. He controlled Wayne Enterprises, which apart from Microsoft, Boeing, the People's Liberation Army, and Exxon Mobil was the largest company on the planet. He virtually owned politicians in thirty countries. After he charmed the pants on the investors and shareholders, there would be nothing and no one to destroy the personal empire he had created for himself. 'Thomas Wayne was an idiot for not using this power.'

His five figure Armani suit jacket slung over his arm, Earle strolled into the reception room for the boardroom, whistling a jaunty tune. "I'm sorry sir," said his secretary, rising from her desk. "You were running late, so the meeting started without you."

Looking at her with a confused expression, Earle furrowed his brows. "What meeting?" he spat, deeply annoyed. "I didn't authorize any meeting!"

The secretary opened her mouth, not knowing what to say. "Sir, I…" she managed to stammer before Earle stormed to the doors and threw them open.

His jaw dropped for a moment at the sight before him. The entire board was seated, with none other than Lucius Fox handing out folders to them. "Fox," said Earle coldly after regaining his composure. His former nemesis looked rather calm and sure of himself, a substantial change from the broken, sullen figure that years in Applied Sciences had created. "I was sure that I fired you."

Fox looked up, not changing his calm outward expression. "You did Billy. I got another job though."

"And which one might that be?" Earle was determined to can the ass of whoever in human resources gave any job to this traitor.

Lifting his glasses from his eyes to the top of his head, Fox smiled slightly. "Yours."

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In the backseat of his Rolls Royce towncar moving some things to his city penthouse, Bruce Wayne tapped Alfred on the shoulder. "Have you seen this morning's paper Alfred?"

Smirking softly, Alfred handed his ward the _Gotham City Ledger_. "As you two can see, your theatrics last night have made more than an impression."

Eager to see the lead story, Olivia tried to snatch it first. Displaying lightning reflexes, Bruce beat her to it. "Not fair Bruce!" she pouted, folding her arms in annoyance.

"Stop whining Liv; you'll get your turn. Haven't you learned not to bite the hand that feeds you?"

"Ugh! You're giving me a ride to work, not performing heart surgery. Get over yourself."

"I will when you do," he quipped, folding the paper. The headline soon made his lip quiver. "Uh, Liv, about your name; you don't have to worry about that anymore. The good folks at the _Ledger_ have figured that out for you."

Eyes widened, Olivia tore the paper out of Bruce's hand. She seethed angrily at the headline: **Batman and Batgirl save City!** "Batgirl. Batgirl! I have a mind to find this motherfucker and rip him a new one! Who do they think I am Bruce, some girly teenage sidekick?" She looked over to see Bruce giggling like a schoolboy. Olivia rolled up the paper and smacked him on the head. "Don't you dare answer that Wayne! You seem to be enjoying yourself a bit too much."

Taking deep breaths, eyes watering, Bruce croaked, "I don't know Liv. It suits you rather well; when people say 'Are you worried about Batgirl?' the criminals will reply 'Nah,' thinking the way you did, and then BAM! You swoop in and knock them on their ass. Also, you should be glad your other partner Stabler is in the limelight." This was true, for halfway down the column was a photo of Elliot, the writer going on and on about him being a hero cop. 'Well, it is good for El's career.' Olivia had almost come around when Bruce couldn't help but ruin it again, "Besides, it wouldn't be that bad for you to be a little more girly." That led to another round of giggles.

Rolling her eyes and muttering something unintelligible, Olivia suppressed the urge to go Badass Benson on him. "You are such a child! Uncle Alfred, help me out here."

"I wouldn't dream of getting in the middle of this. However, while Batman and Batgirl," Olivia sank back into the plush seats. 'Even Uncle Alfred is calling me that now. I guess I'm stuck with it forever!' Alfred continued on without interruption, "Made the front page, Bruce Wayne and Olivia Benson were pushed back to page eight." He handed back the society page of the _Ledger_. Bruce opened it up and groaned, trying to hide it.

"Oh no you don't Bruce Wayne!" scolded Olivia, snatching it from his hand. "HA! That's more like it." She poked him in the chest, grinning widely. "Read it and weep." The headline read: **Drunken Billionaire Burns Down Home, Saved by off-duty Detective**. Inset on a large photo of the burned out Wayne Manor, was a file photo of Bruce and one of Olivia in her dress blues, looking sharp.

"So this is the plausible story you came up with Alfred?"

"I don't know what you're talking about sir," replied the butler, tipping Olivia a wink through the mirror.

Olivia giggled, "Face it Bruce, in real life, I'm the more awesome of the two of us."

Thankfully before he had to answer that, his cell phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, he grinned mischievously. "It's Earle."

"What the hell does he want?" spat Olivia, eyes narrowing. She had taken an instant dislike to him at the party last night. 'God, that was last night. Where did the time go?'

His grin growing ever wider, Bruce looked at her, "Probably wondering about how I replaced him with Fox this morning."

That caught her off guard. "How? You don't own the company. Or do you?" she questioned, wanting to know the truth.

"You'll see in about ten seconds." Figuring he had made Earle wait long enough, Bruce opened the phone and put it on speaker. "Good morning. You have reached Bruce Wayne."

The line from the boardroom was also on speaker. "Good morning to you too Bruce. What makes you think you can choose who is running Wayne Enterprises," Earle said, trying to keep his anger in check.

"Well Mr. Earle, I believe it's the fact that I'm the owner."

"What are you talking about? The company went public a week ago," he replied smugly.

"And I bought most of the shares." Earle's face visibly fell. "Through various trusts, charities, brokerages, and so forth. It's all a bit technical." Olivia slapped him on the shoulder, grinning and biting her lower lip to suppress a giggle. She wished she could have seen Earle's face. Bruce looked back at Liv and winked, "But the important thing is that, _my_ company's future is secure; right Mr. Fox?"

"Right you are Mr. Wayne," replied Fox, amusement in his tone. "What's the matter Bill?" He took off his spectacles and looked at Earle, a smile tugging his lips. "Didn't you get the memo?"

Earle glared into the air, looking both angry and beaten at the same time.

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For the first time in a long while, the bullpen of the 1-6 was devoid of activity, most of the cops either on duty or rushed to Gotham General Hospital for treatment due to Huang's gas. Elliot Stabler sat at his desk, finishing the ever-present DD5s. Commissioner Munch was eager to showcase the "Hero Cop" in front of the entire press, but after a ten minute shouting match, Elliot had convinced him to delay the press conference till tomorrow. Even a hero cop needed a day of unwinding, and after he finished the accursed forms, he'd be taking the rest of the day off and visit his family at Kathy's parent's house.

"Well I just had to see it to believe it!" Elliot jerked his head up at the sound of one of the voices he'd recognize in his sleep. Olivia threw her small handbag on her desk, smirking. "The press-proclaimed hero cop hard at work after helping to save the city from a bunch of homicidal maniacs. If I didn't know that cop personally I wouldn't believe it."

"It's nice to see you too Liv," he said, smirking as well.

"Come here you crazy bastard." She pulled him into a friendly hug. "What are you doing here? After what you went through El, you should be in Miami soaking up the sun." She pulled away and eyed him carefully, hands on her hips. "And don't give me the 'Duty as a police officer' bullshit either."

"You're one to talk Liv," he grinned, pulling out the society page of the _Ledger_, making her face redden with embarrassment. "What is it about you that even on vacation you find trouble?"

"I do not!" she whined, starting to get defensive.

"Yes you do Liv. Remember Ricky Austin?"

She waved a finger at him, "Don't you dare Elliot Stabler. God, you're just as bad as Bruce!"

"Really? Did I get falling down drunk and burn down my mansion?"

"He wasn't that drunk," Olivia murmured, hoping to get out of this conversation.

"DADDY!" She was saved by the running forms of Lizzie and Dickie Stabler, both practically jumping into their father's arms. 'Thank you kids.'

Elliot quickly morphed from annoying best friend to loving father mode. "Hey buddies! This is such a wonderful surprise!"

"Hey, don't forget us," called Kathleen Stabler, walking in with Maureen and Kathy. "Sometimes I wish I was the cute one again, not just the most beautiful." She tossed her hair to one side, running a hand through it while her sister groaned. Olivia giggled silently, 'God, she's just like her father; cocky as hell.'

"I would never do such a thing," Elliot said, enveloping his two oldest kids into the hug. "Don't forget to say hi to Olivia."

"We could never forget Auntie Liv," remarked Lizzie, running over and hugging Olivia's legs. "We all love her."

Stunned, Olivia wrapped her arms around the Stabler clan. "You guys are so sweet. I love you guys too." It wasn't a lie; she often felt like a big sister to the kids, and before Bruce came back, most of her free time was spent with them. It made up for her screwed-up love life.

"Leave Olivia alone before you break her in two," laughed Elliot. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Well," said Maureen, "We woke up this morning and saw your face on the news, and mom thought it was a good idea to visit our hero for a father." Elliot looked over at Kathy, who simply nodded and smiled at him.

"Is it true daddy?" piped Dickie, looking up at his dad with eager eyes. "Did you drive the Batmobile?"

"Batmobile?" asked Liv to Kathy.

Her best friend's wife gave her a knowing look. "Dickie and his friends are calling it that at school. If you ask me though, it looks more like a tank than anything else."

Olivia smiled. "Yes it does." 'I have got to tell Bruce about this.'

Oblivious to their little discussion, Elliot lifted his ten-year old son in his arms effortlessly. "Not only that buddy, but the Batman and Batgirl asked me to help with their little plan."

"Really!" the ten year old practically shouted. Olivia couldn't help but grin. Elliot's kids already thought of him a cross between Superman and Captain America; it wasn't her main intention to further that when she and Bruce asked him for his help, but some things just worked out.

"That's so cool dad," said Kathleen, patting him on the shoulder. "I can't wait to tell my friends about this. I'm going to be so in the in-crowd."

"That's not why I did it, but ok." He chuckled and hugged each one of his kids before motioning for Kathy to join him in the hallway. "Liv, could you keep the kids company for a moment?"

"Sure, it's no problem. I love these little munchkins," she said, ruffling Lizzie and Dickie's hair.

"Thanks Liv." Walking into the hallway, he embraced his wife, "I'm so glad all of you are safe."

"Us?" Kathy returned the hug, lightly slapping the back of his head. "What about you, you dope? What were you thinking?"

"Well, I definitely didn't think a madman would set off a hallucinogenic gas into the Narrows. In addition, you have to admit that I was well protected for the last part." He smirked, knowing that he had a point.

"How does Olivia put up with you, because I sure as hell don't know how I do?" She smiled though, and gave him a passionate kiss on the lips. "I'll be sure to thank you for staying alive tonight."

He gave her a shit-eating grin. "It's a date." Elliot turned and walked back into the bullpen, where Olivia was listening to his kids drone on and on about the Batman and Batgirl. "Come on kids, don't bore Liv with your stuff."

"Don't worry El, I don't mind one bit." It was actually flattering and kind of ironic. Elliot's kids were commenting her without their even knowing it. The only thing that was more ironic than that was her day job was hunting down her night job. 'Welcome to my life, complicated to the shit.'

Elliot gathered his kids, "Ok everybody, why don't you go with your mother. I'll finish my work and we'll all have a fun-filled family afternoon together."

"Yay!" all his kids chimed, each hugging him once more before going with Kathy. Once they had cleared out, Elliot cleared his throat, "You look a little worn out Liv."

"Yeh, well running into a burning building tends to do that to a woman," she quipped. 'I did run into one last night.'

"You should go home, get some rest. When you come back to work Monday we'll have a lot on our hands with all those escaped psychos."

"I will shortly El, but for now I might as well keep my partner company." Olivia turned her head around, gazing at the nearly empty bullpen. "Where is everybody?"

"Well, Breslin and Briscoe are on scene in the Narrows on the perp hunt. Cassidy is, uh… well… indisposed."

Olivia wiggled her eyebrows. "What did you do?"

"Why do you always assume it's me?" he scowled.

"Because I know you too well, so tell me."

"I kind of pistol whipped him after he got high on a hallucinogenic toxin Huang was producing. He's in the hospital."

Both of them tilted their heads back cackling hysterically, enjoying the relative quiet while it lasted.

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After dropping by his family's downtown penthouse to break in his new home for the foreseeable future, Bruce headed back to Wayne Manor, well the remnants of Wayne Manor; Olivia had called him and said she'd take a cab over later. After conferring with the fire marshal, it had been determined that the entire manor, foundation and all had been destroyed by the inferno set by the League of Shadows. Over seven generations of Wayne family history gone up in smoke, lost to the world; surprisingly, Bruce felt upbeat. He was still breathing, so was Alfred, and Olivia, and Alex, and the rest of Gotham City. Cragen/Ra's al Ghul had failed thanks to him and Liv. What were the countless innocents saved compared to a few trinkets?

Nailing several wooden boards to cover the well where the incredible journey started all those years ago, Bruce heard a light footfall coming from behind him. He turned to see Alex Cabot, dressed in a crisp, white blouse and grey skirt, walking through the greenhouse toward him. "Hey Alex," he said softly so only she could hear him.

"Hey Bruce," she replied, looking at him oddly, as if not knowing what to make of the entire situation. 'First time for everything I guess,' she thought, realizing that the almighty Queen of the courtroom was lost for words.

They stared at each other for a while, silence only interrupted by the chirping of the birds. "This place hasn't changed from when you, me, and Liv were kids all those years ago," Alex finally said to break the silence. "Us though, we've changed a lot haven't we?"

"We have," Bruce replied, biting his lower lip in guilt. "Look Alex, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

She put her hand up for him to stop. "No Bruce, I'm the one who has to apologize. The night Skinner died, I said terrible, hurtful things to you. Things that should never have been said."

"But they were true, and I thank you for telling them to me. That day I was nothing but a coward with a gun, you knew it, Liv knew it, but I didn't. I let my hurt and my anger cloud my judgment and suppress my conscience. Now I see that you were right, justice is about harmony and doing what's right."

"You're a good man Bruce, you always were. Having to grow up so fast after your parent's death, I couldn't imagine what it must have been like." Bruce looked down at the ground, shifting his feet. Sensing his awkward movements, Alex took his hand gently in hers. "I never stopped thinking about you, about us, while you were gone. You were one of the most amazing people I have ever known, and when I found out you were back, I started to hope." Smiling softly, she leaned forward, her mouth only millimeters away from his own. Smiling as well, he dropped his head and kissed her chastely; there was nothing lustful about the kiss. It was innocent, just like what Alex represented to Bruce, the part of his soul that was lost since Skinner killed his parents. It felt good to both of them all the same.

Watching silently from the greenhouse, a small tear cascaded down Olivia's cheek. She had arrived not five minutes before, and had heard almost all of the conversation. Knowing her cousin and best friend, she didn't want to interrupt their moment, so she stayed in the small building, keeping out of sight.

She turned away and walked to the grounds, her mind a confused jumble of different thoughts. 'You should be happy for them,' Olivia kept screaming to herself. 'You know they've been in love with each other for years. And he's your partner in crime, stop feeling this way!' All logic, reason, and loyalty she had was telling her to not feel bad about this, but deep down inside her heart, she felt the stirrings of heartbreak. 'Could I be falling for my best friend?' Olivia shook her head furiously. 'No! That's impossible. I can't. I won't! It's too dangerous and unfair to the two of them. I will get rid of these feelings, yes, that's what I'll do.' She perked up slightly, her mind made up. However, again deep down in her very being, Olivia Benson knew that she was lying to herself.

Lips drifting apart, Alex gazed into Bruce's eyes, not wanting to say what she was about to say, but knowing it had to be done. "But then I found out about your mask, about Olivia's mask."

Bruce locked his eyes with hers, gazing into the azure blue. He wanted to know what she was thinking, but it eluded him. The only person he could read just by looking through their eyes was Liv, no one else. "Batman and Batgirl are symbol's Alex, nothing more. I'm still here, Olivia is still here."

"No Bruce," Alex replied, her soft, pale hand drifting to his cheek. "This is your mask. Yours and Olivia's true face is the ones criminals now fear. The sweet little boy that I loved, the man that vanished, never came back at all. You and Olivia grew, changed in such similar ways, I fear neither of you can separate what you do under the mask from who you are inside."

Alex took a deep breath and continued, "But maybe that little boy is still out there, waiting for when Gotham no longer needs Batman or Batgirl. When that day comes, I might get to see him again." Bruce nodded slightly, understanding. Alex gave him a warm hug, leaning in to his ear. "Keep Olivia safe." She kissed him on the cheek and started to walk out. "Oh Bruce," she said at the last minute. "I was wrong about one thing. Your father would be very proud of you."

Olivia was waiting for either Alex or Bruce to leave the well. "Liv," Alex called.

"Hi Alex." She cleared her throat, slightly uncomfortable. "About the Batgirl…"

To her surprise, Alex pulled her into a hug. "Save it Liv. You don't need to explain anything to me. Just promise your favorite cousin two things."

"You're my only cousin, but alright."

"First, keep Bruce safe."

"Done."

"Good. Second, promise me that this isn't permanent. That a day will come when I can get my best friend back."

"Alex, I'm still here. Nothing has changed between us. It's just a mask."

"No Olivia, it's much more complicated than that. How about we discuss it at my apartment later. Remember, it's our weekly Saturday Chinese night."

"Sounds good, see you then." The blonde grinned and walked toward her car.

Waiting for Bruce to come out, Olivia put out all the strange and unwelcome thoughts out of her mind when she saw him emerge. "Hey there partner," she said, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

Bruce made as if to flinch away. "Oww," he cried, rubbing his arm.

"Oh pooh, you've been hit much harder by a hulking League of Shadows ninja."

"Yes, but I don't care about him like I do you," he replied grinning. Not able to control herself, Olivia blushed. Looking for a way out, she gazed up at the charred remains of Wayne Manor. "Isn't that a big kick in the pants?"

"Yep Liv. The fire department declared it safe to enter an hour ago. Want to go in and see what's left?"

"Sure," she mumbled, slightly shocked when he took her hand in his. He hadn't done that since they were kids, and it felt nice. She visibly relaxed, "That sounds good." They strolled lazily to the blackened ruin.

Stepping over the blackened beams, bits of cracked marble crinkling underfoot, Olivia looked at her best friend. "So what did Alex say to you?" she asked, though she did know.

Sighing, Bruce looked at the sky. "She said that we could never be together, until the day came when Gotham no longer needed Batman and Batgirl. She feels that until that time, who you and I really are will be clouded by what we do."

Olivia's heart was pounding at what he just revealed. A small part of her felt that now she had a chance, but that was quickly quashed by the rest of her. "Don't worry Bruce," she said, looking into his eyes. "Everything will work out. God has a plan for all of us, you just have to trust Him."

He smiled at her, not knowing what he had done to deserve such a good friend. Spotting something out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the case for his father's stethoscope, the one he and his father used to play with back before all the shit. Bruce bent down to open the charred container, only to find it empty.

"Looking for this?" Bruce turned to see Olivia holding the stethoscope in her bronzed hand. "I knew how much this meant to you, so I grabbed it out of the study before the fire could get it."

A lone tear escaping his lid, Bruce pulled her into a hug. "Thank you," he whispered, feeling her arms wrap around him. 'This feels so right, wait what?' He broke off, suddenly embarrassed, taking the stethoscope. "You are a true friend Liv."

"Just returning the favor," she replied, slightly hurt that he said "friend." 'Hadn't he felt the hug too? No, he couldn't possibly have.'

Alfred was overseeing the recovery efforts, looking as professional as always. "Things aren't as good as we could have hoped for Master Bruce, but at least the grounds didn't suffer."

"Amen to that," said Olivia. "So what's the plan Bruce?"

"We're going to rebuild it, the same way that it was brick by brick."

"Good to see the kickass Bruce back. He's always welcome in my book." The two shared a knowing smirk.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, "Just the way it was sir?"

"Yeh why?"

"I was thinking that we could improve the foundations a bit."

"Like in the southeast corner," both said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

Not able to contain his own smirk, Alfred replied, "Precisely."

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Three months later.

A searchlight stabbed into the sky, illuminating the underside of a low-hanging cloud bank. Emblazoned in the middle was the darkened shape of two bats, their middle wings joined together, raised as if in triumph. Elliot Stabler took a sip of his coffee, trying to keep awake. There were a lot of important cases on his docket, and he was short staffed since Cassidy was putting in his papers. Not that he minded though. The workplace would be much better without that smug dick, especially where Olivia was concerned. Half the time before was keeping his drool inside his mouth and Olivia's fist out of Cassidy's nose.

A sudden fluttering drew his attention. "Nice," growled the Batman, tapping the metal bats.

"Looks good," added the Batgirl, appearing suddenly to the left, her voice softer but no less intimidating.

Elliot smirked, "I couldn't find any mob bosses, so this will have to do." Olivia rolled her eyes from inside her mask. 'Typical Elliot,' she thought.

"So what do you need from us Sergeant Stabler?" asked Bruce.

"Oh it's Captain Stabler now," he corrected with pride in his tone.

'Captain Stabler?' Olivia heard. Elliot was going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow.

"Yep; you two really started something. Bent cops running scared, out of state mob groups pulling out investments, hope running through the streets; the Narrows though, is lost. We haven't yet picked up Huang or nearly half the inmates he released."

Olivia looked at Bruce for a moment and then turned to Elliot. "We'll get them. We can bring Gotham back from the abyss."

"What about escalation?"

"Escalation?"

"You know criminals, it's like evolution with them. We get submachine guns, they get machine guns; we get Kevlar armor, they get armor-piercing bullets. Now, we have you two wearing masks and jumping off rooftops…"

Neither Bruce nor Olivia liked where this was going. "Has there been anything?" Bruce asked.

"Only one so far," replied Elliot truthfully. "Armed Robbery, Double homicide; small scale but I believe it could get worse. He has a certain taste for the theatrical like yourselves."

"Do we have any leads?" asked Olivia, cop mode kicking in.

Elliot took out an evidence bag. "He left a calling card. Something pretty strange even for the criminals of this town."

Bruce took the bag, showing it to Olivia. It was a playing card, a Joker playing card. "We'll look into it." They both turned to leave.

"I never did get the chance to thank you."

Both Bruce and Olivia turned and answered at the same time. "And you'll never have to."

TO BE CONTINUED

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**

**The sequel will be up shortly.**

**Get ready for the Joker!**


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